•Enamoured By Fictional Men•

The first thing you learned about your husband was that he didn’t smile.

Not at the wedding. Not during the vows.

Not even when the officiant tried to lighten the atmosphere with a joke about “till death do you part” sounding a little too literal considering his line of work.

Kang Yeosang had simply stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, hands steady, expression unreadable—like he wasn’t marrying you, but signing a contract.

Which, to be fair, he kind of was.

You weren’t naive.

You knew exactly what this marriage was: a strategic alliance between your family and his. 

Stability. Protection. Power consolidation. 

All the very romantic things that made mafia deals go smoothly.

What you didn’t expect… was how quiet he would be. Not cold in the dramatic, cruel way.

Just… distant.

Like he existed slightly outside of your world.

He spoke when necessary. Ate with precision. Moved like someone always calculating three steps ahead. 

Even at home, where most people would relax, Yeosang remained composed—back straight, voice low, emotions tucked away behind a wall you couldn’t even see the edges of.

At first, you tried.

“Do you like tea or coffee?” you had asked on the third morning after moving in.

“Either.”

“…Okay, but which do you prefer?”

A pause.

“Tea.”

You beamed. “Great! I’ll remember that.”

He nodded once. That was it.

No “thank you.” No follow-up.

Just… Yeosang.

You refused to let that discourage you.

If he was a wall, you’d be ivy.

You talked about everything.

Your day. The neighbor’s weird cat. A random documentary you watched. A joke you found funny.

He listened, always. That was the strange part.

He never interrupted, never dismissed you, never told you to stop talking. He just… didn’t respond much.

Still, you noticed things.

Like how his gaze would linger just a fraction longer when you laughed.

Or how he’d subtly adjust the air conditioning because you once mentioned you got cold easily.

Or how your favorite snacks would magically appear in the pantry after you offhandedly said you liked them.

He didn’t show his affection with his words.

He… executed it.

Quietly. Efficiently.

Like everything else he did.

You shared a room.

A large one, elegant and impersonal at first, until you filled it with small touches—books on the nightstand, soft blankets, a ridiculous amount of pillows Yeosang never complained about.

The bed, however, remained a clear line of demarcation.

You on one side. Him on the other.

He never crossed it. Not even in his sleep. Not even once.

It wasn’t rejection, exactly. It just… felt like distance.

And sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent and Yeosang’s breathing was steady beside you, you’d stare at the ceiling and wonder—

Does he even like me?

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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If there was one thing you didn’t share with him, it was your stash.

Hidden carefully in the bottom drawer of your desk, beneath neatly folded scarves and old notebooks, was your treasure trove:

Romance novels. Fanfiction printouts.

Dog-eared pages, highlighted lines, sticky notes marking your favorite scenes.

Soft love. Slow burns. Confessions whispered in the dark.

The kind of affection your marriage didn’t quite have.

It wasn’t that you expected Yeosang to suddenly turn into a dramatic romantic lead.

But sometimes—

Okay, a lot of times—

you wished he’d just… reach for you.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

It happened on a completely normal afternoon.

Which, in hindsight, was exactly how life liked to ruin you.

You had left in a hurry, rushing out to meet a friend, completely forgetting that you’d left your drawer slightly open.

And Yeosang… had come home early.

He wasn’t looking for anything in particular.

Just a document he thought might be on your desk.

He noticed the drawer because it wasn’t perfectly aligned.

And Yeosang was, unfortunately, a man who noticed everything.

So he opened it.

And found…books. A lot of books.

He frowned slightly, picking one up. The cover was… pink.

Suspiciously pink.

He flipped it open.

Read a line. Paused. Read another.

His expression didn’t change much. But his ears turned slightly red.

“His fingers traced her wrist, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of her skin—”

Yeosang closed the book.

Very calmly. Placed it back.

Opened another one.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, voice breaking, “I’ve loved you from the moment you walked into my life.”

Pause. Blink.

Yeosang sat down.

And, for reasons even he couldn’t quite explain…kept reading.

You didn’t think anything was wrong when you walked in.

“Yeosang, I’m back!” you called cheerfully, slipping off your shoes.

No response. That wasn’t unusual.

You wandered into the bedroom—and froze.

Because your husband was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Holding one of your books.

Your brain stopped functioning.

“…”

“…”

He looked up. You looked at him.

The book.

Him.

The book.

Him.

“I can explain,” you blurted.

“Explain what,” he asked calmly, holding up the book, “this?”

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

“It’s—uh—it’s research.”

“Research.”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

“…life.”

A pause.

Then—

“…I see.”

He looked back at the page and continued reading.

You stood there. Processing.

“…Wait.”

You stepped closer.

“You’re just going to keep reading it?”

“I was in the middle of a chapter.”

“That’s not the point!”

He glanced at you.

“Then what is?”

Your face burned.

“That’s private!”

“I didn’t know that,” he said, tone even. “It was not labeled.”

“You don’t need a label, it’s obvious—!”

Another pause.

He closed the book gently. Looked at you.

“…Do you like this kind of thing?”

Your soul left your body.

“Why are you asking that?” you said weakly.

“You read a lot of it.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

“It usually does.”

“That’s not—” you stopped. “Okay, yes, I like it, but that’s not the point!”

“What is the point?”

“The point is that you weren’t supposed to see it!”

“Why.”

“Because it’s embarrassing!”

“Why.”

“Because it just is!”

Yeosang studied you. Carefully.

“…It is about affection,” he said.

You froze.

“…What?”

“These stories,” he continued, flipping the book slightly, “they focus heavily on emotional and physical intimacy.”

You covered your face.

“I know what they’re about, Yeosang.”

“Do you want that?”

Your hands dropped. The room went quiet.

He wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t mocking. Wasn’t even embarrassed.

He was just… asking.

Direct. Honest.

Like he always did.

And suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore.

“…I mean,” you started, quieter now, “I don’t expect… all that dramatic stuff.”

He waited.

“I just…” you hesitated. “Sometimes I wonder if you even like me.”

Silence.

“I do,” he said.

You blinked.

“…You do?”

“Yes.”

“…Oh.”

That was… not what you expected.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Something shifted after that.

Not dramatically. Not overnight.

But… noticeably. It started small.

One evening, you were reading on the couch when he sat beside you.

Closer than usual. Not touching.

Just… close.

You noticed. Said nothing.

Then—

His hand moved.

Slowly. Carefully.

And rested next to yours.

Not holding. Not quite touching.

Just… there.

You stared at it. Then at him.

He was looking straight ahead, completely composed.

But his fingers… twitched slightly. Like he wasn’t used to this either.

You smiled. And gently placed your hand over his.

He froze.

But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t react.

Just… stayed.

But his grip tightened. Just a little.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Yeosang approached affection like he approached everything else:

Methodically.

Which led to… some very interesting moments.

“You look… acceptable.”

“Acceptable???”

He paused.

“…Good.”

You burst out laughing. He looked mildly offended.

Another time, you were in the kitchen when he suddenly hugged you.

From behind. Stiffly.

Like he had read instructions but didn’t quite understand them. 

You nearly dropped the spoon.

“…Yeosang?”

“…Yes.”

“…Are you okay?”

“I am attempting something.”

“…I can tell.”

Pause.

“…Is it working?”

You turned in his arms, smiling.

“Yeah. It is.”

The third time, you came home one day to find candles.

Everywhere. Way too many candles.

“Yeosang—why does it look like a ritual in here?”

“I read that this creates atmosphere.”

“…For what?”

He hesitated.

“…Romance.”

You stared at him.

Then laughed so hard you had to sit down.

He looked deeply confused.

Despite the awkwardness, the stiffness, the occasional complete misunderstanding of fictional tropes—

He was trying. For you.

And that mattered more than anything.

But the real moment—

The one that stayed with you came quietly. Like everything important did with him.

It was late.

You were half-asleep, curled up on your side of the bed.

When you felt it.

A shift. Warmth. Weight.

You blinked your eyes open.

And realized—

Yeosang had moved.

Closer. Not all the way.

But enough that his arm rested lightly over your waist.

Careful. Hesitant.

Like he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

Instead, you leaned back slightly. Into him.

He stiffened. But then relaxed.

And that meant a lot.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

Yeosang didn’t become a completely different person.

He didn’t start making grand declarations or dramatic confessions.

But you started noticing more. A lot more.

The way he always made sure you ate. The way he’d stand just a little closer in public.

The way his hand would find yours without thinking.

The way he remembered everything you said.

Even the smallest things. Especially the smallest things.

And sometimes, when he thought you weren’t looking… you’d catch it.

A soft expression. A quiet fondness.

Something warm.

Something yours.

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

─────────

One night, you found something unexpected.

On your pillow. A book.

One of yours.

With… sticky notes. You picked it up slowly.

Opened it.

And saw annotations.

“This is unrealistic.”

“This is inefficient communication.”

“…This is acceptable.”

You laughed. Then flipped to the last page.

Where a single note waited.

“I am still learning. Be patient.”

Your chest tightened.

Soft. Full. Overwhelming.

You looked up.

And there he was. Standing by the door.

Watching you.

“You wrote this?” you asked.

“Yes.”

You smiled. Walked over.

“And what if I said you’re doing really well?”

He paused.

Then, very gently, he reached out.

Tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“…That would be… good.” 

“Yeosang?”

“Yes.”

“…Do you love me?”

A rare question.

Direct. Vulnerable.

He didn’t answer immediately.

You waited.

Then—

he stepped closer.

Rested his forehead lightly against yours.

And said, quietly:

“I would not be doing all of this… if I didn’t.”

Not dramatic. Not poetic. Not straight out of your books.

But somehow better.

Because it was him.

And as his hand found yours—steady now, no hesitation— you realized something.

Maybe your story wasn’t like the ones you read. Maybe it didn’t have grand speeches or perfect moments.

Maybe it was slower. Quieter.

A little awkward. A little clumsy.

But it was real. And it was growing.

And most importantly, it was yours.

© lcvejjoong, 2026

You storm up the stairs in anger, straight past everyone, your eyes fixated on getting to your bedroom. You catch Yunho staring at you in your peripheral but that does not stop your legs from moving forwards. You were too upset to care quite frankly.

You felt embarrassed, humiliated, everything felt dreadful and you were just waiting for the moment the world would do you a favour and open the ground up to swallow you whole.

You push open the door, the air in your bedroom immediately feeling much lighter than the tension that hung in the air downstairs, admittedly you were partly responsible for thickening the air, but in your defence? You had to stand up for yourself, and you are definitely not a quitter.

It was meant to be a simple pre-game for a party that Yunho's best friend Mingi was hosting later in the night, you had offered up your house, as it was pretty empty and knowing Yunho. Mingi and their other six friends, it would never just be them alone, there were always a few extras.

Simple it was...at the beginning anyway. You aren't one to fight over any man, In fact, you have completely sworn off of doing so. However when one of Mingi's plus ones began to insinuate how she would never had expected Yunho to go for 'someone like you' - whatever the hell that meant- you began to feel a little threatened, and who is she to threaten you in your own home? You shrugged off the first few comments, continuing the night as peacefully as you could manage, but like some kind of game, she kept testing your patience, with her comments becoming far more daring. Yunho warned her to stop, arguing that you were beyond perfect for him, and as much as you wholeheartedly appreciated the gesture, your ego was way too large to sit with the fact that this random girl would listen to your boyfriend over you.

You couldn't tell if it was the shots you had taken, whether you had gone a little too light on the carbs for dinner or you were just a woman full of rage but you had reached a breaking point. Another slew of nonsense fell from her lips as if sent from above with the sole purpose of aggravating you.

Like a dropped can you exploded, you didn't scream but your voice got cold, almost threatening, the room fell silent. You saw Wooyoung glance at Yunho in reference to you, Yunho only shook his head, mouthing 'Let her,' with a small smirk. The conversation got heated, with some of the boys jumping in to defend you, Yunho corroborating all your points like a perfect witness, as if trying to save you from a conviction for social exclusion.

She didn't back down though, the two of you bumping heads every few seconds until eventually you gave up. You turned on your heel, growling a low 'Fuck you,' as you left the room.

You sit on your bed, head in your hands as you try to collect yourself, you push away the thoughts and fears she attempted to instil in you about your own relationship, implying you were nowhere near good enough for Yunho in any metric.

You hear a soft knock on your door, and an even softer call of your name.

"Y/n?" The voice creaks the coor open slightly.

"Yunho not now," you grumble "Go entertain all of your friends down there," You don't look up.

Yunho rolls his eyes at the door, opening it fully and closing it gently behind him "I think they were thoroughly entertained already," he snorts. "C'mere," He sits on the bed beside you, opening his arms.

"Fuck you," You grumble, your words laced with fake venom as your body fell into his arms almost immediately.

He rests his head on top of yours, nuzzling his chin on the crown on your head, you groan loudly, muttering something about him testing your patience, he just smiles, which annoys you even more because nothing is funny at the moment.

"I kicked her out," He mumbles "She tried to say sorry and blah blah blah..." he sighs "I wasn't having any of it, made her leave. She tried to bargain with the others but they were quick to kick her out too," He laughs.

Your heart warms at his gesture, despite whatever she said, Yunho has never once let you forget how fiercely loyal he is to you. "Thank you," You whisper hoarsely into his chest. He hums.

"You know i would never have let her get away with saying that about you," He affirms "I know how you like to fight your own battles, but lean on me sometimes," He whispers softly, hand rubbing your back "I'm always here."

You pull away to glance at him, he looks at you with the most endearing eyes, you smile softly, you could only stay angry for so long, and definitely not when Yunho looks at you like he would hang the moon for you.

Yunho sighs loudly, flopping back onto the bed. You watch him with furrowed brows, was that it?

He pats his lap, looking at you.

"Come on," he beckons "I know you still have some anger to get out, come do your worst."

You grin at him, how he knows you so well.

You waste no time straddling him, and his hands waste even less time flying to your waist to steady you, or so that's what he tells you, even though you both know he just loves the way you feel under his hands.

"Listen i wasn't trying to act crazy i just don't know who she thinks she is..." You begin to rant at him. He just looks at you with the upmost amount of love in his eyes, humming at every insult that left your lips, shaking his head in disapproval when you critiqued her actions, adding onto your arguments and calling out the sheer absurdity of the situation. His hands grounded you, squeezing your thighs whenever you began to get too worked up, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips whenever you expressed something that upset you.

"Okay, i think i'm done." You mutter, he only chuckles as he props himself up on his elbows.

"Can i admit something," He looks at you. You nod cautiously.

"You are so hot whenever you do this." He smirks "Kinda wish you were mad at me,"

You roll your eyes playfully, pushing him back down onto the bed "Oh my god Yunho, you're disgusting," you laugh.

He laughs with you, chest rising and falling in sync with yours. You both simultaneously hear all of the commotion happening downstairs, loud laughter and what sounds like a lot of drunk men.

Yunho perks up "Shit i forgot about them," He looks at you, you shrug.

"They're good at entertaining themselves." You look at him "However tell San not to touch my shit." You glare at Yunho who puts his hands up defensively.

"Seonghwa would kill him, you're in good hands." He tells you, you nod suspiciously. "Let's go down, I'll show you." He bargains.

You nod, taking his hand as you drag both of you off the bed and towards the door, a far more peaceful, intoxicating night waiting for you.

Yunho held your hand, squeezing it reassuringly as you went down the stairs.

And somehow that silence felt louder than anything else.

Yunho stared at the glass door like maybe she would suddenly come back out again.

Maybe she would realize she overreacted. Maybe she would laugh awkwardly and tell him she was just overwhelmed. Maybe he should go after her.

The thought hit instantly.

Go upstairs. Knock on her door.

Tell her again that none of it mattered to him.

That he liked her exactly as she was. That he had not felt this connected to someone in years.

His body even shifted slightly toward the entrance before he stopped himself.

Because another thought followed immediately after.

Would that actually help?

Or would it just overwhelm her more?

Y/N already looked terrified standing there crying in front of him.

Not scared of him. Scared of everything surrounding him.

And Yunho understood that better than she probably realized.

People always talked about fame like it only brought good things.

Opportunities. Money. Attention.

They rarely talked about what it did to relationships.

How every interaction eventually became distorted somehow.

People projected versions onto him constantly. Some saw fantasy. Others saw status. Some only saw headlines and crowds and numbers.

Y/N had met him before any of that.

She met him sweaty behind a bar with a missing lighter and stupid jokes.

And tonight she finally saw the gap between that Yunho and the version the world recognized.

No wonder she got overwhelmed.

Still…

The image of tears in her eyes while saying I don’t know if I can manage something like this again made something ache sharply in his chest.

Again.

That word stayed with him.

Because whatever happened before him clearly hurt her deeply enough that now she expected disappointment before anything even began.

Yunho leaned heavily back against the car with a quiet curse. “Fuck.”

He dragged both hands through his damp hair before finally climbing back inside the car.

The engine stayed off.

Yunho rested his forehead briefly against the steering wheel and closed his eyes.

Everything replayed instantly anyway.

Y/N laughing earlier that afternoon with powdered sugar on her mouth. The way she relaxed when he kissed her hand outside the amusement park. Her coworkers staring at her like she did not belong beside him.

And worst of all, the way she looked at him near the end.

Like she already believed losing him would hurt too much.

Yunho exhaled slowly through his nose.

He should text her.

No.

Call her maybe.

No.

Give her space.

God.

He hated this.

Eventually he started the car again mostly because sitting outside her apartment spiraling for another hour would become deeply pathetic.

The drive back to Moonlight Room blurred together.

Rain grew heavier halfway there, streaking against the windshield while city lights reflected gold and red across wet streets.

Usually driving calmed him. Tonight his thoughts kept circling the same questions endlessly.

Should he have stopped her harder?

Should he have let her walk away so easily?

Was she already regretting everything?

The thought physically hurt.

By the time Yunho parked behind the bar, exhaustion sat heavy in his bones.

The familiar neon sign glowed dimly against the rain outside.

Tonight the bar was closed to the public. Just their people inside.

Sometimes after long schedules they gathered there anyway. Played music. Drank. Helped Wooyoung and Seonghwa clean or test new drinks.

Usually those nights relaxed Yunho.

Tonight he already wanted to leave again before even walking in.

The second he stepped inside, warmth and noise hit him immediately.

Music played softly through speakers while laughter echoed somewhere near the booths. Seonghwa polished glasses behind the counter while Wooyoung argued loudly with San over something involving tequila and “creative freedom.”

Mingi spotted Yunho first. “Oh!” He pointed dramatically. “The lover boy returns.”

Several heads immediately turned.

Yunho already knew where this was going.

Wooyoung gasped loudly. “How was the date with the woman of your dreams?”

San nearly fell sideways across the booth grinning. “Did you kiss?”

“Wait no,” Wooyoung interrupted. “Did you cry?”

“Why would he cry?” Yeosang asked flatly.

“Because he’s emotionally invested.”

“That’s fair.”

Usually Yunho would have laughed. Usually he would have shoved Wooyoung dramatically and complained while secretly enjoying the teasing.

Tonight he just forced a weak smile instead. “It was fine.”

Silence flickered briefly.

Because everyone immediately noticed the problem.

Hongjoong looked up first from his drink. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You look miserable,” Jongho pointed out bluntly.

“I’m tired.”

“No.” San narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Something happened.”

Yunho shrugged out of his damp jacket and headed toward the counter instead. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

Nobody believed him.

Wooyoung appeared beside him almost instantly. “That was the saddest ‘it’s fine’ I’ve ever heard.”

Yunho rubbed tiredly at his face. “I just don’t really want to talk right now.”

“Oh no,” Mingi muttered dramatically from behind him. “It’s bad bad.”

“What did you do?” Yeosang asked.

“Why does everyone assume I did something?”

“Because you’re emotionally impulsive,” Hongjoong answered immediately.

“That’s offensive.”

“It’s accurate.”

Seonghwa quietly slid a drink toward Yunho across the counter. “You wanna sit?”

Yunho nodded once gratefully.

The others followed immediately of course. Like emotional vultures.

San practically climbed across the booth. “Did she reject you?”

“No.”

“Did you reject her?”

“No.”

“Did you accidentally tell her you loved her?”

“What? No!”

“Then what happened?”

Questions kept coming from every direction. Too fast. Too loud.

And normally Yunho would have handled it fine.

But Y/N crying kept replaying behind his eyes every few seconds.

The sound of her voice shaking. The way she looked genuinely scared.

And suddenly everyone pushing at him felt unbearable.

“Can you all just leave it alone for a second?” he snapped suddenly.

Silence crashed instantly across the booth. Yunho immediately regretted the sharpness in his voice.

Wooyoung blinked. San leaned back slightly. Even Mingi looked surprised.

Yunho exhaled harshly through his nose before rubbing a hand over his face again.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered quietly. “I just…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Nobody spoke for a second afterward.

Then Hongjoong nodded once. “Okay.”

The conversation shifted awkwardly after that.

Nobody pushed again.

Still, Yunho barely heard most of it.

His thoughts stayed somewhere else entirely.

Hours passed slowly afterward.

Eventually San and Wooyoung started arguing over music again loudly enough to shake the entire room. Yeosang disappeared onto the patio with Seonghwa for cigarettes. Hongjoong answered work calls in the corner looking exhausted already.

Yunho slipped away quietly toward the small stage area near the back of the bar.

The room there stayed dimly lit except for scattered overhead lights reflecting softly across instruments.

His guitar already rested near one of the stools. Without thinking too much, Yunho picked it up. The familiar weight settled comfortably against him immediately.

Playing usually helped organize his thoughts. Or at least drown them out.

Tonight music came easier than words. Soft chords filled the empty bar while rain tapped quietly against windows outside.

Yunho stared down at the notebook resting open beside him. Lyrics already covered half the page.

Most unfinished. Most obviously about Y/N.

About girls who looked sad while laughing. About lakes under moonlight. About wanting someone enough to become terrified of losing them immediately.

Pathetic honestly.

Still, he kept writing anyway.

At some point footsteps approached quietly behind him.

Yunho didn’t look up immediately.

Only when Mingi settled beside him on the stage steps without speaking. For a while Mingi just listened quietly while Yunho played absentmindedly.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

His voice sounded different now.

Not teasing. Not pushing.

Just… caring.

Yunho stared down at the guitar strings for a second longer before sighing softly. “She got scared.”

Mingi stayed quiet beside him.

So Yunho continued slowly. “She said she doesn’t know if she can handle…” He gestured vaguely around himself. “All of this.”

“The fame stuff?”

“Yeah.”

Rain continued softly outside while Yunho explained everything.

The coworkers. The comments. Y/N trying to pull her hand away. The way she looked smaller afterward no matter how hard he tried making her laugh again.

And finally the car ride.

Her crying. The way she kept talking like she wasn’t enough for him.

By the time he finished, his chest felt hollow again.

Mingi sat quietly processing it all.

Then eventually he leaned back against the stage step with a slow sigh. “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

For a second neither spoke.

Then Mingi rubbed lightly at his jaw thoughtfully. “I get why you’re upset,” he admitted carefully. “But honestly?” He glanced sideways toward Yunho. “I kinda get her too.”

Yunho looked over immediately.

Mingi lifted both hands slightly. “Not saying she’s right. Just…” He shrugged. “Think about it from her perspective.”

Yunho looked away again toward the guitar.

“She met you as just Yunho.”

The sentence landed quietly between them.

Not Jeong Yunho from Ateez.

Not the celebrity version everyone recognized instantly. Just him.

Mingi continued softly. “She didn’t know who you were at first. That’s probably why she relaxed around you so fast.”

Yunho remembered the first night instantly. Y/N laughing at his missing lighter. Calling him dramatic.

Looking at him without hesitation or expectation. No fame involved.

Just them.

“And then suddenly,” Mingi continued, “she sees the other side of it.”

The attention. People talking over her to get to him.

Yunho’s chest tightened again.

Mingi leaned forward resting his forearms against his knees. “You told us yourself she’s already insecure.” He glanced toward Yunho carefully. “And honestly? She sounds like someone whose trust you actually gotta earn.”

The sentence made Yunho blink slightly.

Because it felt painfully accurate.

Y/N did not open easily. Even the first night together, she kept overthinking every conversation at first.

And yet somehow she still followed him into the city anyway. Still trusted him enough to spend the night with him. Still let herself become vulnerable.

Mingi snorted softly beside him. “It still surprises me she even went with you that first night honestly.”

“That’s rude.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yunho did.

Because objectively?

Y/N should have been more cautious.

Instead she trusted him almost instinctively before even knowing who he was. And maybe that made tonight hurt worse too.

Because now she suddenly saw all the reasons not to.

Mingi nudged Yunho lightly with his shoulder. “I don’t think she pushed you away because she doesn’t like you.”

Yunho stared quietly at the notebook beside him. “She literally said she likes me.”

“There you go.”

“She still left.”

“Because she’s scared.”

Silence settled softly around them afterward.

Then Mingi smiled slightly. “You know,” he admitted, “I’m actually rooting for you.”

Yunho looked over.

Mingi shrugged. “You haven’t looked this genuinely happy in forever.”

The words hit unexpectedly hard.

Because they were true. Even Hongjoong mentioned it earlier that week.

Yunho laughed easier after meeting Y/N.

Smiled more. Seemed lighter somehow.

And all of it happened because one exhausted office worker walked into a random bar after work looking like she needed saving from adulthood.

Mingi looked toward the guitar resting against Yunho’s lap.

“So don’t give up yet.”

Yunho exhaled quietly. “You really think there’s still a chance?”

“I think,” Mingi said slowly, “that if something feels special this quickly, it’s probably worth fighting for.”

The sentence settled deep in Yunho’s chest.

Outside, rain continued falling softly over the city.

And for the first time since Y/N closed the door in front of him earlier that night, Yunho felt something besides helplessness.

Hope maybe.

Fragile. But there.

One week. Seven entire days.

Yunho knew because he counted every single one.

At first he tried being reasonable about it.

Y/N needed space. That was fair.

The night outside her apartment had been emotional for both of them. She cried. He pushed. Everything became messy and overwhelming.

So Yunho gave her time.

One day.

Then two.

Then four.

Now an entire week had passed.

No texts. No calls. Nothing.

And slowly, against his will, the thought started sinking in deeper every day.

Maybe she really was done with him. Maybe the silence itself was the answer.

Yunho sighed heavily from the couch in the recording studio before checking his phone again.

Still nothing.

No notifications except group chats and management reminders.

The screen reflected faintly against his tired face before he dropped the phone dramatically onto his chest again.

Across the studio, San’s voice blasted through the speakers mid-recording while Hongjoong adjusted controls behind the mixing desk.

Mingi glanced over from his chair immediately. “There he goes again.”

“I heard that,” Yunho muttered without moving.

“You were sighing like a divorced father.”

“That’s because he’s heartbroken,” San announced through the studio microphone before laughing at his own joke.

“Focus on recording,” Hongjoong shouted back immediately.

“I contain multitudes.”

The studio lights felt too bright today.

Or maybe Yunho just barely slept again.

Most nights this week ended the same way. Lying awake in bed staring at old messages from Y/N.

The messages physically ruined him now.

Because afterward came silence. Total silence.

Yunho dragged a hand over his face tiredly before checking his phone again despite knowing better.

Still nothing.

Mingi watched him for another second before speaking carefully. “She still hasn’t texted?”

Yunho shook his head once against the couch cushion. “Nope.”

“Maybe she’s busy,” San offered weakly through the microphone.

“San,” Hongjoong said flatly, “nobody is too busy for one text during an entire week.”

“Let me be optimistic.”

Yunho laughed softly despite himself. Weak.

But real enough that the others visibly relaxed slightly.

Because honestly?

This week had been rough. Not dramatic movie rough. Just quietly miserable.

Everything kept reminding him of her.

Coffee shops. Train stations. Rain at night.

Even the stupid claw machine plushie sitting on the shelf beside his desk at home because apparently Y/N forgot it in his car after the amusement park.

Yunho stared at the studio ceiling blankly. “She’s ghosting me, isn’t she?”

Three immediate reactions hit him at once.

“No.”

“Probably not.”

“You’re spiraling.”

Yunho groaned quietly. “I’m serious.”

Mingi leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “She doesn’t seem like the ghosting type.”

“She literally vanished.”

“She told you she was scared,” Hongjoong pointed out calmly without looking away from the mixing desk. “That’s different.”

Yunho knew that. Logically.

Emotionally, however, his brain kept producing worst-case scenarios every two hours.

Maybe she regretted ever meeting him. Maybe she met someone normal instead.

The last thought made something ugly twist immediately in his chest. Pathetic.

Yunho sat up slowly from the couch before grabbing his phone again. “I should text her.”

“Then do it,” San answered immediately.

“But what if that’s overstepping?”

Three heads turned toward him.

Yunho rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “She asked for space.”

“She never actually said that,” Mingi pointed out.

“She kinda implied it.”

Hongjoong finally looked up from the console then. “Yunho.”

“Hm?”

“You’ve spent seven days staring at your phone like a Victorian widow.”

“That feels dramatic.”

“It’s accurate.”

San nodded immediately. “You sigh every thirty minutes.”

“Yesterday you stared at rain for like twenty minutes straight,” Mingi added helpfully.

“That was unrelated.”

“It absolutely wasn’t.”

Unfortunately true.

Yunho dropped back against the couch again with another sigh. “I just don’t wanna make things worse.”

The room quieted slightly after that.

Because underneath all the jokes, the others knew him well enough to understand what this actually meant.

Yunho rarely got attached this fast anymore. Rarely let people affect him this deeply. And now one week of silence already had him looking permanently exhausted.

Mingi leaned forward slightly. “You know what I honestly think?”

Yunho looked over tiredly.

“I think she’s probably overthinking herself into another dimension.”

The sentence startled a laugh out of him.

Mostly because it sounded painfully accurate. Y/N absolutely seemed like the type to spiral herself into emotional isolation.

Hongjoong nodded thoughtfully too. “She probably thinks she’s protecting you.”

That part hurt more. Because maybe she genuinely believed walking away would make his life easier.

Meanwhile Yunho had spent the entire week writing songs about her.

Actual loser behavior.

San suddenly leaned back dramatically inside the recording booth. “You know what this studio session needs?”

“No,” Hongjoong answered immediately.

“A love song.”

Silence.

Then Mingi burst into laughter. “Oh my god.”

Yunho already knew where this was going. “No.”

“Yes,” San insisted brightly. “The people yearn for emotional devastation.”

“The people need you to finish your recording first,” Hongjoong replied.

But Mingi already looked deeply entertained now.

“Oh, Yunho has like twenty of those.”

Traitor.

San gasped dramatically through the microphone. “You wrote songs about her?”

“I write songs about everything.”

“Not like this,” Mingi corrected smugly.

Hongjoong slowly turned toward Yunho now too.

Interest immediately visible. “Wait.”

Yunho groaned quietly. “No.”

“Play one.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re literally an artist,” San shouted. “Suffer publicly.”

“I hate all of you.”

“Play the song.”

Yunho crossed his arms stubbornly against his chest. “No.”

Unfortunately that only encouraged them.

Mingi physically got up from his chair. “Oh, now we definitely need to hear it.”

“You’re being annoying on purpose.”

“Yes.”

Hongjoong leaned back against the console thoughtfully. “Honestly? We do need something emotional for the setlist.”

Yunho stared at him in betrayal. “You too?”

“You write best when you’re miserable.”

“That’s offensive.”

“That’s accurate,” three voices answered immediately.

Yunho buried his face in his hands briefly.

Because the worst part?

They were probably right.

This entire week had poured directly into music whether he wanted it to or not.

At some point around three in the morning two days earlier, he wrote an entire chorus about wanting someone so badly that silence itself started hurting physically.

Embarrassing.

Deeply embarrassing.

Still…

Slowly, reluctantly, Yunho reached toward the notebook resting beside the couch.

Immediate chaos erupted.

“Oh my god.”

“He’s doing it.”

“Wait, I’m emotionally preparing.”

“Shut up,” Yunho muttered.

The teasing quieted almost instantly once he actually picked up the guitar resting nearby though.

Because now they knew he was serious.

The studio settled into softer silence while Yunho adjusted the instrument against himself.

For a second he hesitated. Then his fingers moved automatically across the strings.

The melody came quietly at first.

Soft. Melancholy.

The room changed almost immediately.

Even San stopped moving around inside the recording booth.

Yunho looked down at the guitar while singing softly.

Not performing. Just… feeling it.

Lyrics spilled out rougher than usual.

About neon lights reflected in lake water. About girls who apologized for existing too loudly in the wrong spaces. About wanting to chase someone even while knowing they’d run first. And somewhere halfway through the second verse, Yunho accidentally forgot everyone else sat in the room.

Because suddenly all he could see was Y/N again.

Laughing at the arcade. Crying outside her apartment. Looking at him like she wanted him too much already.

His chest tightened painfully mid-chorus anyway.

Still, he kept singing.

The final line faded softly into silence afterward.

No one spoke immediately.

Yunho stared down at the guitar awkwardly.

Then finally:

“…Holy shit,” San whispered.

Yunho looked up. All three of them stared at him.

Hongjoong leaned slowly back against the mixing desk like he needed a second to process.

Mingi blinked once. “Okay,” he said carefully. “That was insane.”

Yunho rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck immediately. “It’s unfinished.”

“We’re putting that in the setlist.”

Yunho looked horrified. “What?”

“We absolutely are,” Hongjoong agreed immediately.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“It’s too personal.”

“That’s literally why it works,” San argued.

Yunho groaned dramatically and dropped backward against the couch again. “I regret sharing anything with you people.”

Mingi laughed loudly. “No actually, that chorus physically hurt me.”

“That bridge was disgusting,” San added. “Like emotionally.”

Hongjoong already grabbed a notebook. “We’re keeping it.”

Yunho stared at the ceiling again while the others immediately started discussing arrangements around him.

Somewhere underneath the embarrassment, warmth flickered softly in his chest too.

Because despite everything else, singing about Y/N made her feel close again somehow. Even if she still refused to answer him.

Hours later, after finally finishing the studio session, Yunho returned home exhausted.

The apartment greeted him with familiar silence.

Usually he appreciated quiet after schedules.

Tonight it just felt empty.

He dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter before immediately pulling out his phone again.

Still nothing.

Yunho groaned softly and collapsed onto the couch.

Okay.

Enough.

He needed to text her.

Obviously.

The others were right.

Seven days without contact already bordered on ridiculous.

Still…

What the hell was he supposed to say?

Hey, are you still emotionally spiraling?

Miss me?

Sorry you think you’re not enough for me even though you absolutely are?

Yunho opened their chat anyway. The blinking cursor mocked him instantly.

He typed. Deleted.

Typed again. Deleted again.

Eventually the message box only contained:

hey

Pathetic.

Yunho dropped the phone onto his face dramatically.

“This is impossible.”

The apartment remained deeply unhelpful. After another ten minutes of suffering, he sat up again determined.

Okay.

Simple honesty.

That usually worked best with Y/N anyway.

He typed again slowly.

I know you probably need time but I miss talking to you

Yunho stared at the sentence.

Then deleted it immediately.

Too intense.

Or maybe not intense enough.

God.

He hated texting.

Another attempt.

Are you okay?

Delete.

Thinking about you.

Delete.

Eventually he threw the phone onto the couch hard enough that it bounced slightly.

“Nope.”

He stood abruptly and paced toward the kitchen instead.

Water. He needed water.

Or alcohol.

Or emotional stability.

Unfortunately the apartment seemed fresh out of all three.

Yunho leaned heavily against the kitchen counter staring toward the rain outside his windows.

Because of course it was raining again. Everything about Y/N somehow involved rain now.

Rain outside the bar. Rain after the amusement park. Rain outside her apartment while she cried.

His chest tightened immediately at the memory.

Maybe texting really wasn’t enough. Maybe this entire situation became too fragile for carefully worded messages.

Y/N overthought texts already. He knew that much about her.

If he sent the wrong thing, she would probably reread it fifty times and convince herself he secretly meant something else entirely.

Yunho sighed heavily before grabbing his phone again.

Still no message from her.

And suddenly the idea settled into place quietly but firmly.

He needed to see her.

Not text. Not call.

Actually see her.

The realization hit so clearly that his body moved before he could overthink it again.

Yunho grabbed his keys from the counter immediately.

Then froze halfway toward the door.

Was this insane? Possibly.

Would Y/N think he completely lost his mind?

Also possible.

Still…

The thought of spending another week waiting silently while she convinced herself they should stay apart felt worse.

Much worse.

Yunho shoved his phone and wallet into his jacket pockets before heading for the door again.

Rain waited outside. Cold night air rushed against him immediately as he locked the apartment behind himself.

His heart beat strangely hard while heading toward the parking garage.

Not nervous exactly. Determined maybe.

Because somewhere between a random bar conversation and a lake at four in the morning, Y/N had become important enough that silence no longer felt acceptable. And Yunho wasn’t ready to lose something that felt this special without fighting for it first.

By the time Yunho parked outside Y/N’s apartment building, rain had softened into a light drizzle.

The city looked blurred beneath wet streetlights.

Quiet. Almost sleepy.

His hands stayed resting against the steering wheel while the engine hummed softly underneath him.

And suddenly all the confidence from twenty minutes ago disappeared completely.

What the hell was he actually doing?

Yunho leaned back slowly into the driver’s seat while staring toward Y/N’s building entrance.

Most windows were dark now except for a few scattered lights higher up.

Maybe she was asleep already. Maybe she didn’t want to see him at all. Maybe showing up unannounced after a week of silence would only overwhelm her more.

The thought made him exhale heavily through his nose.

“Great,” he muttered quietly to himself. “Now I’m the creepy guy outside her apartment.”

Rain tapped softly against the windshield.

Yunho stayed where he was.

Just thinking. Or overthinking maybe.

Because honestly, part of him still felt scared too.

Not of rejection exactly. More of hearing Y/N say out loud that this really was over before it ever properly started.

His phone rested in the cupholder beside him.

Still empty. No messages.

Yunho rubbed tiredly at his face before glancing back toward the building again.

One week. One entire week without her voice.

Without her terrible nervous laughs or the way she overexplained things when anxious.

God. He missed her.

The radio played quietly in the background, mostly ignored until the station host suddenly started talking louder.

“And next up,” the host announced brightly, “one of the biggest tracks dominating charts this month…”

Yunho already knew what was coming before the instrumental even started. “Oh, come on.”

Their song flooded through the speakers immediately.

His own voice filled the car seconds later alongside San’s.

Usually hearing their music unexpectedly felt surreal in a fun way. Tonight it made his stomach twist instead. Because suddenly he saw everything through Y/N’s eyes again.

Not Yunho sitting nervously in a car debating whether to ring her doorbell.

Jeong Yunho.

The celebrity. The performer people screamed for. The version of him impossible to separate from the rest now.

Y/N’s words echoed painfully clear in his head.

Your career is part of you too. Your fans matter. They’d be disappointed.

Yunho stared down at his hands silently while the song continued playing around him.

Maybe she was right.

Not about being boring. Never that.

But about how complicated this could become.

He had lived inside fame long enough to understand the ugly parts too.

The scrutiny. The judgment. The way strangers suddenly believed they owned pieces of your personal life.

Y/N already looked overwhelmed after one interaction with coworkers.

What would happen if things became public someday?

Would she hate it? Would it crush her slowly?

The thought alone made guilt flicker uneasily in his chest.

Maybe loving him really would become exhausting eventually.

Outside, rain streaked softly down the windshield while the chorus played quietly through the car speakers.

Yunho listened to his own voice for another few seconds before suddenly laughing softly under his breath.

Because this was ridiculous. All of it.

He was sitting here convincing himself to walk away from someone he cared about because the world might become difficult.

Meanwhile Y/N already spent her entire life carrying things alone.

Work. Expectations. Insecurities people clearly fed into constantly.

And instead of standing beside her through it, he almost turned the car around because he got scared too.

“No,” Yunho muttered quietly.

The word settled something firmly inside his chest.

Because yes, he was famous. Yes, his life was messy and public and complicated. But he was also still just a man sitting in a car at midnight missing a girl.

A girl who laughed like she forgot how beautiful she sounded doing it. A girl who cried because she genuinely thought she wasn’t enough for him.

And Yunho absolutely refused to let her believe that without fighting harder first.

The realization hit cleanly. Enough that suddenly his nerves quieted slightly too.

He turned off the radio.

The sudden silence felt sharp.

Then Yunho grabbed his keys and stepped out into the rain before he could overthink himself out of it again.

Cold air hit instantly. The drizzle dampened his hoodie while he crossed toward the apartment entrance.

Each step made his heartbeat louder.

Yunho shoved his hands into his pockets while entering the building.

Warm air greeted him inside along with faint fluorescent lighting. The elevator ride felt unbearably slow.

His reflection stared back at him from the metal doors.

Tired eyes. Messy dark hair. Nervous energy practically radiating from him.

“You’ve performed in stadiums,” he muttered under his breath. “Get it together.”

Unfortunately his heart ignored that advice entirely.

By the time he reached Y/N’s floor, his pulse already hammered painfully hard against his ribs.

The hallway looked quiet.

Yunho stopped outside her apartment door for a long second.

Okay.

Last chance to leave. Last chance to pretend he never came here.

His brain immediately supplied worst-case scenarios again.

Maybe she’d be angry. Maybe she’d cry again. Maybe she’d ask him to leave.

Still…

Yunho lifted his hand anyway.

Then rang the bell.

Silence followed immediately afterward.

Heavy enough that Yunho suddenly became hyperaware of every sound in the hallway.

His own breathing. The distant elevator hum somewhere below. Rain against windows far away.

For one horrible second he genuinely thought she might not answer.

Then footsteps.

Yunho straightened instinctively.

The lock clicked. And suddenly the door opened.

Y/N stood there staring at him in complete shock.

Soft oversized sweater. Bare face. Hair slightly messy like she had been lying down before answering.

Beautiful. Painfully beautiful.

For a second neither of them spoke.

Y/N blinked slowly. “…Yunho?”

His chest tightened immediately hearing her say his name again after a week of silence.

And standing there in front of her, watching surprise and nervousness flicker across her face all at once, Yunho realized one thing with absolute certainty.

He was not leaving until he fixed this.

Y/N had been miserable for an entire week.

Not dramatic movie miserable. Just quietly, constantly miserable.

The kind that settled heavy beneath her ribs no matter what she did.

Work became worse because now every quiet moment left too much room for thinking. She caught herself staring at her phone during lunch breaks hoping for messages she simultaneously felt too guilty to answer.

At night it became unbearable.

Because every single thing reminded her of Yunho somehow.

Rain against windows. Coffee shops. Late-night train rides.

Even the stupid oversized hoodie he left at her apartment after the amusement park sat folded carefully over the back of her chair because she could not bring herself to wash away the smell of him yet.

Pathetic honestly.

Yuna thought so too.

Not in a cruel way.

More in the deeply exasperated best-friend way. “You’re spiraling again.”

Y/N groaned softly from where she laid half-dead across the couch.

The apartment smelled faintly like takeout and vanilla candles while quiet music played from the radio nearby.

Outside, rain tapped softly against windows again.

Of course it was raining. Everything involving Yunho apparently required dramatic weather now.

Yuna sat cross-legged on the floor eating fries directly from the container while watching Y/N carefully.

“You haven’t stopped sighing for like twenty minutes.”

“I’m suffering.”

“You’re self-inflicting suffering.”

“That’s even worse.”

Yuna snorted softly.

Y/N pulled the blanket higher over her face dramatically. The last week replayed endlessly in her head no matter how hard she tried distracting herself.

Especially the look on Yunho’s face when she walked away from him.

God.

That alone made guilt twist violently in her chest.

Because the truth was painfully simple.

She missed him. A lot.

More than she should after such a short time.

Y/N stared blankly toward the ceiling. “I feel stupid.”

Yuna looked up immediately.

“There she is.”

“What?”

“The emotional honesty.”

Y/N sighed heavily again before finally sitting up slightly on the couch. “I handled everything horribly.”

“You were overwhelmed.”

“I still handled it horribly.”

Yuna stayed quiet while Y/N rubbed tiredly at her face.

“Who cries in front of someone because they’re too famous?” she muttered weakly. “That’s genuinely embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing.”

“It absolutely is.”

“No.” Yuna pointed a fry dramatically toward her. “It’s anxiety.”

Y/N laughed softly under her breath. Unfortunately true.

Still, shame sat ugly inside her chest anyway.

Because now that the panic settled slightly after a week, everything seemed clearer in retrospect.

Yunho never once made her feel lesser. Not once.

If anything, he spent the entire time trying to pull her closer while she kept pushing herself away first.

Y/N swallowed lightly. “I really like him.”

The confession came quietly. Still heavy enough that Yuna’s expression softened immediately.

“I know.”

“No, like…” Y/N looked down toward her hands. “I really, really like him.”

That part scared her too.

Because nothing about this felt casual anymore.

Yuna leaned back against the couch thoughtfully. “Then why are you acting like he’s impossible to love?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“You keep talking about him like he’s some unreachable thing.”

“Well…”

“He’s famous,” Yuna interrupted immediately. “Not a god.”

Easy for her to say.

Y/N groaned quietly again. “You didn’t see how people reacted.”

“I don’t need to.” Yuna shrugged slightly. “People are weird about celebrities.”

“It’s more than that.”

Yuna looked at her carefully for a second.

Then sighed softly. “You know you’ve always done this, right?”

Y/N frowned slightly. “Done what?”

“This.” Yuna gestured vaguely toward her entire miserable existence currently wrapped in blankets. “Thinking you’re not enough whenever someone seems better than you in some way.”

The words hit harder than expected. Y/N looked away immediately.

“Which is complete nonsense by the way,” Yuna continued firmly.

“It’s not nonsense.”

“It absolutely is.”

Y/N laughed weakly under her breath. “Easy for you to say.”

“No, listen to me.” Yuna shifted closer slightly. “You did this in university too.”

Y/N already knew where this was going. “Oh my god.”

“The teaching assistant asked you out once and you spent three weeks convinced he pitied you.”

“He wore loafers.”

“That means nothing.”

“He looked emotionally stable.”

Yuna stared at her flatly. “You hear yourself, right?”

Y/N buried part of her face back into the blanket.

Unfortunately Yuna kept going.

“And your ex?”

Immediately Y/N tensed slightly.

Yuna noticed but continued more gently. “You spent that entire relationship trying to become smaller so he wouldn’t leave.”

Silence settled heavily after that.

Because unfortunately…That was true too.

Y/N stared quietly toward the rain outside the windows.

Her ex always seemed shinier somehow.

More social. More ambitious. More certain.

Eventually Y/N started feeling like something dull beside him.

And by the end she apologized constantly just for needing reassurance at all.

Maybe that was why Yunho terrified her so much now.

Because the feelings already ran deeper than she expected.

And losing something this good later would absolutely destroy her.

Yuna nudged her sock-covered foot lightly. “You know what I think?”

Y/N hummed quietly.

“I think you met someone who actually sees you properly for once.” Yuna smiled faintly. “And that scares the hell out of you.”

Y/N looked down again without answering. Because maybe that was true too.

The radio played softly in the background while silence settled more comfortably afterward.

Then suddenly the station host spoke louder between songs.

“And next up,” the host announced brightly, “one of the biggest tracks dominating charts this month…”

Y/N immediately froze.

Yuna noticed instantly. “Oh?”

Then the music started.

Yunho’s voice filled the apartment seconds later.

Warm. Smooth.

Familiar enough now that Y/N’s chest physically tightened hearing it unexpectedly.

Yuna looked deeply entertained immediately. “There’s your man.”

“He’s not my man.”

“You cried over him.”

“That’s unrelated.”

“It’s absolutely related.”

Y/N tried glaring but failed miserably once Yunho’s verse started.

God. His voice really was unfairly beautiful.

And somehow hearing it through apartment speakers instead of headphones made the reality of who he was hit all over again.

Not just Yunho. Ateez’s Yunho.

The man millions listened to.

Yuna leaned dramatically back against the couch. “Okay no, I get it.”

Y/N frowned slightly. “What?”

“If someone sang to me sounding like that?” Yuna placed a hand dramatically over her chest. “I’d listen to them all day long too.”

Heat immediately rose into Y/N’s face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m right.”

The song continued softly through the apartment.

And despite all the anxiety still sitting inside her chest, warmth slipped through too.

Because under everything else…

She missed him.

His laugh. The way he flicked her forehead whenever she spiraled too hard. The softness in his voice whenever he said her name.

Y/N stared blankly at the rain outside again while Yunho’s voice continued through the speakers.

Then suddenly:

Ding dong.

Both women looked toward the apartment door immediately.

Yuna blinked.

“Oh thank god. Food’s here.”

Right.

They ordered takeout earlier.

Y/N sighed softly before finally untangling herself from the couch blanket.

“I’ll get it.”

“Tell them I love them.”

“You would say that to every delivery driver.”

“Food is important.”

Y/N laughed quietly while heading toward the apartment entrance.

The radio still played softly behind her.

Yunho’s voice followed faintly through the hallway while she unlocked the door.

For some reason her stomach twisted suddenly.

Maybe because she spent the last hour thinking about him nonstop. Maybe because hearing his voice still lingering in the apartment made missing him feel sharper again.

Y/N pulled the door open distractedly.

Then froze completely.

Yunho stood there.

Dark hoodie damp from rain. Hair messy and slightly wet. Breathing faintly uneven like he came upstairs too quickly.

Y/N genuinely forgot how to function for a second.

Shock slammed through her entire body so hard she just stared. “…Yunho?”

He looked almost equally startled seeing her immediately.

Like maybe he expected more time before the confrontation actually happened.

For one painfully awkward second neither moved.

Then suddenly Yunho started talking.

Fast. Very fast.

“Okay hi,” he blurted immediately. “I know showing up here is probably insane and maybe slightly creepy but I couldn’t figure out what to text you and then I kept overthinking everything and honestly I just really needed to see you.”

Y/N blinked rapidly. Rainwater still dripped lightly from his hoodie sleeves onto the hallway floor.

Meanwhile Yunho continued rambling before she could respond.

“And I know you’re scared,” he said quickly. “I get that. I do. But I need you to understand something because I don’t think I explained it properly before.”

His chest rose unevenly beneath the hoodie like he had rehearsed this in his head the entire drive here.

Y/N stayed completely frozen in the doorway listening. Yunho ran a hand anxiously through his damp hair.

“I don’t care about any of that stuff,” he continued softly now. “The fame. The attention. What random people think.” His eyes locked onto hers intensely. “I care about you.”

The words hit her so hard she physically forgot how to breathe for a second.

Inside the apartment, Yuna suddenly made a very loud choking sound from the living room.

Neither noticed. Or maybe both ignored it.

Because Yunho kept looking directly at Y/N like the rest of the world disappeared entirely.

“I care about being with you,” he admitted quietly. “Talking to you. Making you laugh.” His mouth twitched slightly. “Watching you pretend you’re not competitive before losing games dramatically.”

Heat rushed painfully into Y/N’s face immediately.

“And I know this probably sounds insane because we haven’t known each other that long,” Yunho continued, voice rougher now, “but I genuinely feel like something about this is important.”

Y/N’s chest hurt.

Because he sounded so sincere. So open.

And somehow that made everything inside her unravel more.

Yunho swallowed once before speaking again. “I want to know you more.”

The hallway suddenly felt too small around them.

“I want more mornings with you,” he admitted softly. “More nights wandering around the city. More stupid conversations about office birthday parties and claw machines and lakes.”

Tears already burned painfully behind Y/N’s eyes again.

Not from fear this time. From how deeply he meant every word.

Yunho stepped one tiny bit closer. Rain dampened the edges of his hair while he looked at her almost helplessly now.

“And honestly?” His voice lowered slightly. “I think I’m starting to fall in love with you.”

Silence crashed instantly through Y/N’s entire body.

The confession settled somewhere deep and terrifying inside her chest.

Because the worst part? Some part of her already felt the same.

Behind her, sudden loud movement exploded from the living room.

“Okay!” Yuna shouted dramatically while appearing around the corner holding both their takeout drinks. “I’m gonna leave you two alone before I witness something emotionally devastating.”

Y/N nearly died instantly. “Yuna!”

Yuna winked shamelessly toward her.

Then directly at Yunho too. “Don’t waste this,” she informed him seriously before grabbing her coat from the chair nearby.

Y/N stared at her in betrayal. “You’re abandoning me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Then before Y/N could physically stop her, Yuna slipped past them both through the doorway.

While leaving, she leaned briefly toward Y/N’s ear. “He literally came in the rain to confess. If you fumble this, I’ll haunt you.”

Then she disappeared down the hallway.

Silence returned immediately afterward.

Y/N slowly looked back toward Yunho.

Yunho looked equally mortified now that his emotional speech apparently had an audience.

“I forgot other people exist sometimes,” he muttered weakly.

A laugh escaped Y/N unexpectedly.

The sound visibly relaxed him slightly.

For a second they just stood there staring at each other awkwardly in the apartment doorway.

Rain continued softly outside.

The radio still played faintly somewhere behind them.

And suddenly Yunho looked nervous. Actually nervous.

The realization alone melted something inside Y/N completely.

Because this beautiful impossible person really stood outside her apartment looking terrified she might reject him again.

Y/N swallowed softly before stepping slightly aside from the doorway.

“You…” She laughed weakly again trying to steady herself. “You can come inside.”

Relief flashed visibly across Yunho’s face so quickly it almost hurt to witness.

Then quietly, carefully, he stepped into her apartment.

And somehow that single moment already felt like the beginning of something important.

The second the apartment door closed behind Yunho, Y/N suddenly became painfully aware of everything around her.

The blanket still thrown messily across the couch. The half-finished tea on the coffee table.

The stack of work folders near the kitchen counter she forgot to put away.

The tiny apartment itself.

Too small. Too cramped. Too ordinary.

Y/N’s chest tightened immediately.

Because suddenly she imagined what his world probably looked like instead.

Luxury apartments. Designer furniture. Huge windows overlooking the city.

Places that looked polished and expensive and worthy of someone like him.

Meanwhile her apartment looked lived in.

Warm maybe. But undeniably small.

Y/N rubbed awkwardly at her hands while Yunho quietly slipped off his damp shoes near the entrance.

“You can just…” She gestured vaguely toward nowhere. “Sit wherever.”

Excellent. Very normal sentence.

Yunho looked up toward her immediately, still slightly damp from the rain, dark hair falling messily over his forehead.

And somehow that only made her more nervous.

“Oh my god,” she blurted suddenly. “Do you want tea?”

Yunho blinked once. “What?”

“Or coffee. Or water.” She immediately started moving toward the kitchen. “I have ramen too if you’re hungry and there’s leftover takeout but it’s probably cold now and—”

“Y/N.”

She stopped immediately.

Yunho crossed the small apartment space in two quiet steps before gently catching her hand.

Warm fingers wrapped softly around hers.

Then his thumb caressed slowly across her knuckles once.

The tiny gesture nearly unraveled her instantly.

Y/N looked down at their hands instead of his face because suddenly breathing felt difficult again.

“I only want to talk to you,” Yunho said quietly.

The softness in his voice made her chest ache.

Y/N swallowed lightly.

“You don’t need to panic.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“You offered me ramen like you’re being held hostage.”

Heat immediately rushed into her cheeks.

Yunho smiled faintly.

There it was again. That soft expression that always made him seem more like just Yunho than the celebrity version everyone else saw.

His thumb brushed across her hand again gently.

“You’re overthinking right now,” he said quietly.

Y/N looked away instantly. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Caught. Again.

Yunho tilted his head slightly trying to meet her eyes. “You’re thinking about how your apartment looks to me.”

Silence.

Because unfortunately that was exactly what she had been thinking.

Y/N laughed weakly under her breath. “You’re really annoying.”

“And I’m right.”

Unfortunately true.

Yunho stepped slightly closer then. “Y/N.”

The way he said her name so gently made her finally look up.

And immediately regret it.

Because he was looking at her so warmly that tears almost embarrassingly threatened again.

“I don’t care how big your apartment is.”

His voice stayed calm. Certain.

“And honestly?” His mouth curved softly upward. “It feels like you.”

The sentence hit somewhere deep inside her chest.

Yunho squeezed her hand lightly before guiding her toward the couch.

“Come sit.”

For once, Y/N let herself be led without arguing.

They settled beside each other on the couch quietly.

Close enough that their knees brushed lightly.

The apartment suddenly felt too small in a completely different way now.

Not embarrassing.,Intimate.

Rain continued softly outside while the radio still played faintly from the kitchen.

Y/N stared down at her hands folded nervously in her lap while Yunho looked at her for a second longer before speaking.

“This week sucked.”

The honesty startled a soft laugh out of her immediately.

Yunho smiled slightly at the sound.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “I kept checking my phone like an idiot every five minutes.”

Guilt twisted sharply inside her chest.,“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize yet.” He leaned back slightly into the couch. “I wanna explain properly first.”

Y/N nodded quietly.

Yunho rubbed his palms lightly against his jeans before continuing.

“I haven’t felt a connection this strong with someone in a really long time.”

His voice softened slightly afterward. “Honestly maybe ever.”

Y/N’s breath caught immediately.

Yunho looked down briefly before laughing softly under his breath.

“You make me nervous enough that I wrote like six love songs this week.”

“What?”

He groaned quietly. “Don’t focus on that part.”

Heat rushed into her face instantly.

Yunho smiled weakly before continuing more seriously.,“When I’m with you, things feel…” He searched briefly for words. “Easy.”

The word settled softly between them.

“Not because everything is perfect,” he clarified quickly. “You overthink. I overtalk. We’re both kinda disasters emotionally.” That made her laugh quietly again. “But being around you feels real.”

Y/N looked down quickly before he noticed how much those words affected her.

Too late probably.

Yunho shifted slightly closer on the couch.

“I need you to understand something though.”

She looked up again slowly.

“The person you met behind that bar?” His eyes stayed locked gently onto hers. “That’s me.”

Emotion tightened painfully in her throat immediately.

“Not some fake version,” he continued softly. “Not a character.”

Y/N listened silently while rain tapped softly against the windows around them.

“I know the famous part looks overwhelming,” Yunho admitted. “And sometimes honestly it is.” He smiled faintly without humor. “But it doesn’t change who I actually am.”

The conviction in his voice made something inside her slowly loosen.

“I’m still the same guy who lost his mind over a shark-cat plushie,” he continued gently. “The same guy who lied about freezing lake water.”

“You absolutely did lie.”

“I stand by it.”

Y/N laughed softly despite herself.

Yunho’s expression warmed immediately at the sound.

“There she is.”

Heat rose lightly into her cheeks again.

Yunho reached for her hand once more, intertwining their fingers carefully this time.

“And if your biggest fear is things becoming public someday…” He shrugged slightly. “I’ve had relationships before.”

Y/N blinked slightly. “You have?”

“Y/N.” He laughed quietly. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Right.

That made sense.

Still, hearing it out loud weirdly made him feel more human again.

“Some were public,” he continued calmly. “Some weren’t.” His thumb brushed slowly against her hand. “And honestly? Fans usually just want us to be happy.”

Y/N looked doubtful immediately.

Yunho noticed. “I’m serious.”

“But what about the crazy people online?”

“Oh, those exist.” He sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

That startled another laugh from her.

“But there are ways to keep things private too,” he continued more gently. “Ways to protect what matters.”

What matters. The wording alone made her chest ache.

Yunho looked at her quietly afterward.

Openly.

Like he genuinely wanted her to understand every single word. “I like you,” he said softly.

“I want to keep seeing you.” His fingers tightened slightly around hers. “If you want that too.”

Silence settled softly around them afterward.

Y/N stared down at their joined hands in her lap.

And somehow that terrified her almost more than before.

Because Yunho kept giving her opportunities to run.

And she kept wanting to stay instead.

Y/N swallowed lightly.

Then quietly: “Do you really want someone like me?”

The second the words left her mouth, Yunho’s expression changed.

Not annoyed. Sad.

Like hearing her talk about herself that way physically hurt him.

Slowly, carefully, he lifted one hand toward her face.

Warm fingers brushing softly along her cheek before tilting her head upward gently.

Y/N’s breath caught immediately.

“Someone like you?” he repeated quietly.

She looked away instinctively.

Yunho guided her face back gently again.

“No,” he murmured. “Look at me.”

Y/N forced herself to.

And immediately melted slightly seeing the softness in his expression.

“When I look at you,” Yunho said quietly, “I see someone who cares deeply about people even when they don’t deserve it.”

Emotion tightened painfully in her chest.

“I see someone funny.” His mouth curved softly upward. “Someone who makes every room feel warmer once she relaxes enough to stop apologizing for existing.”

Tears already threatened again.

Yunho brushed his thumb gently beneath one eye before they could fall.

“I see someone strong enough to keep going even while exhausted all the time.”

The tenderness in his voice nearly destroyed her.

“And honestly?” He smiled faintly. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Y/N’s breath shook softly.

“Especially when you laugh,” he added quietly. “Or when you get competitive over games even though you suck at them.”

That made her laugh through the tears immediately.

“There she is,” Yunho whispered again.

His forehead rested lightly against hers afterward.

“I don’t want someone else,” he murmured softly. “I want you.”

The sentence shattered the last fragile wall inside her completely.

Because god. She wanted him too.

Y/N closed her eyes briefly before whispering shakily:

“I like you too.”

Yunho’s breath caught softly.

“And…” She laughed weakly through remaining tears. “I wanna try this.”

For one second Yunho simply stared at her.

Like he genuinely needed to make sure he heard correctly.

Then relief spread so visibly across his face that it physically hurt to witness.

“Yeah?”

Y/N nodded softly.

And that was apparently enough to completely destroy whatever patience remained inside him.

Yunho kissed her instantly.

Warm mouth crashing against hers hard enough to steal the breath directly from her lungs.

Y/N gasped softly into the kiss before melting immediately toward him.

His hands slid instinctively to her waist pulling her closer against him on the couch while she grabbed desperately at the front of his hoodie.

The kiss turned deeper fast.

A week of missing each other and overthinking and emotional tension pouring directly into it.

Yunho kissed like he had been holding himself back for days.

Maybe he had.

His fingers tightened against her waist while Y/N climbed halfway into his lap without fully realizing it.

Their mouths moved desperately against each other.

Yunho groaned softly when she kissed him back harder and the sound alone made heat rush violently through her body.

His hand slid upward along her back carefully beneath the fabric of her sweater.

Warm skin. Gentle touch.

Y/N’s fingers tangled into his damp hair instinctively while kissing him deeper.

The apartment disappeared around them completely.

Only Yunho remained.

His mouth warm against hers.

The softness of his hoodie beneath her hands.

The way he kept kissing her like she was something precious he almost lost.

Eventually they broke apart only because breathing became necessary.

Both breathing unevenly now.

Yunho rested his forehead against hers again while one hand remained carefully at her waist.

“You have no idea,” he whispered breathlessly, “how long I wanted to do that again.”

Y/N laughed softly, still dizzy.

“Probably one week.”

Yunho smiled against her mouth before kissing her once more.

Slower this time.

And for the first time since meeting him, Y/N let herself stop thinking long enough to simply feel happy.

Main Masterlist | Yunhos Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Then widened dramatically. “Oh my god,” he mouthed.

Yunho reacted instantly. He pointed at Wooyoung threateningly before pressing a finger to his lips.

Wooyoung looked personally delighted by this development. Seonghwa glanced up too, following Wooyoung’s stare toward them. Unlike Wooyoung, his reaction was smaller. Just a slight lift of his eyebrows before amusement flickered briefly across his face.

Y/N felt absurdly like a teenager sneaking out past curfew.

“This feels illegal,” she whispered.

“It kinda does,” Yunho admitted quietly.

They slipped past the crowded dance floor carefully, staying close to the wall while people remained distracted by music and drinks and conversations.

Near the exit, Yunho grabbed two black baseball caps hanging from hooks beside the door.

He shoved one toward her.

Y/N blinked. “Why do you have emergency hats?”

“I don’t know. They just appear around me.”

“That’s concerning.”

“Wear it.”

She pulled the cap onto her head while Yunho tugged the second low over his own face.

The action changed him strangely fast.

He was still far too recognizable up close. But combined with the dim lighting and the crowd, he suddenly blended in easier. Before she could think harder about it, Yunho grabbed her wrist lightly.

“Move quickly before Wooyoung starts screaming.”

“What?”

Too late.

From somewhere behind them came a dramatically muffled voice.

“USE PROTECTIOOOON.”

Y/N nearly choked.

Several people turned immediately.

Yunho looked genuinely horrified. “Jung Wooyoung,” he shouted back in disbelief.

Seonghwa’s laughter echoed behind them while Yunho dragged Y/N through the exit before anyone else could react.

The cold night air hit instantly.

The door slammed shut behind them. For two seconds both stood there silently.

Then Y/N burst into laughter so hard she doubled over slightly.

“Oh my god.”

Yunho covered his face with one hand.

“I’m never speaking to him again.”

“He’s insane.”

“He gets worse after midnight.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“I know.”

She laughed again while they started walking down the sidewalk.

The city felt entirely different now.

Earlier it had seemed distant through train windows and office exhaustion. Now everything looked brighter somehow. Neon signs reflected against wet pavement. Cars rushed through intersections. Groups of strangers spilled out from restaurants and bars laughing loudly into the night.

Y/N shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of Yunho’s oversized jacket.

“You know,” she said eventually, “if I get murdered tonight, this entire situation would sound deeply suspicious to police.”

Yunho looked offended. “Excuse you.”

“You’re literally a stranger I met in a bar.”

“A charming stranger.”

“Debatable.”

“I’m wounded.”

“You’ll survive.”

He grinned slightly beneath the brim of his cap. “Probably.”

For a while they just walked.

No destination yet. No real plan.

Just moving through the city beneath streetlights while conversations drifted naturally between silence and random topics.

It surprised Y/N how easy talking to him remained.

Usually she became self-conscious around strangers eventually. Conversations started replaying in her head while they happened. She worried about sounding awkward or oversharing or saying the wrong thing.

But with Yunho, things kept slipping out naturally before she could filter them.

Which was both freeing and slightly terrifying.

At one point he told her about accidentally setting off a fire alarm in a hotel room trying to make instant ramen.

At another she admitted she once cried during a group presentation in university because her PowerPoint deleted itself ten minutes beforehand.

“You cried publicly?” Yunho asked in delight.

“I was stressed.”

“That’s incredible.”

“You’re mean.”

“I’m impressed actually.”

She rolled her eyes while they waited at a crosswalk.

The pedestrian light reflected red against damp streets.

Yunho glanced sideways at her then. “You think before every sentence.”

Y/N blinked slightly. “What?”

“You pause.” He demonstrated vaguely with one hand. “‘Should I say this? Is this weird? Am I oversharing?’”

She stared at him. “That’s horrifyingly specific.”

“Like I said, I notice things.”

“You really do.”

The crosswalk light changed. They started moving again with the crowd. Y/N tried not to think about how accurately he had read her.

Unfortunately, she had always been like that.

Even as a kid.

Every thought examined before speaking. Every reaction softened carefully.

University had helped for a while. She remembered becoming louder there somehow. More impulsive. More certain of herself.

Then adulthood happened. Corporate life happened.

Now she felt like every version of herself had been filed down into something more manageable.

Yunho nudged her shoulder lightly when she went quiet. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Thinking too much.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He looked ahead casually. “You can talk freely with me.”

The words settled softly somewhere beneath her ribs.

Yet strangely difficult to believe immediately.

Y/N looked down briefly at the sidewalk while they walked.

“I used to be less…” She searched for the word. “Careful.”

“What changed?”

She laughed quietly under her breath. “Everything?”

“That sounds depressing.”

“It is.”

“But?”

Y/N hesitated.

There it was again. That instinctive pause before speaking.

Only this time she noticed it herself too.

Yunho waited patiently beside her without interrupting.

And somehow that patience made honesty easier. “When I started university,” she said slowly, “I genuinely thought I’d change things.”

He glanced toward her quietly. “In HR?”

She nodded. “I know it sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It kinda does.”

Her breath fogged faintly in the cold air. “I had this whole picture in my head.” A small smile tugged briefly at her mouth. “Helping people get better opportunities. Creating healthier workplaces. Making sure employees actually felt valued.”

“That sounds nice actually.”

“Yeah.” She laughed softly. “Turns out corporations love pretending they care about people while actively destroying them.”

Yunho snorted quietly.

“That tracks.”

“I used to argue with professors about ethical work environments.” She shook her head slightly at the memory. “Like genuinely passionate arguments too. I thought if enough people cared, things could improve.”

“And now?”

Y/N looked ahead at the city lights. “Now I spend entire days making PowerPoint presentations about employee satisfaction while half my department looks dead inside.”

The words came out lighter than the feeling behind them.

Because the truth hurt more than she wanted to admit.

It wasn’t just disappointment. It was grief almost.

Grief for the version of herself that once believed work could feel meaningful. That once believed adulthood would feel bigger than this.

“I think the worst part,” she admitted quietly, “is that I kept telling myself things would improve eventually.”

Yunho listened silently beside her.

“No job is perfect,” she continued. “So I thought maybe I just needed more experience. Or a promotion. Or better coworkers.” She swallowed lightly. “But lately I keep waking up already tired.”

That confession felt more vulnerable than she expected. Embarrassingly vulnerable actually.

Y/N looked away quickly afterward. “I sound depressing.”

“You sound burnt out.”

The immediate certainty in his voice made something tighten unexpectedly in her chest.

Not because he pitied her. Because he understood.

Yunho shoved his hands deeper into his pockets while they walked another few steps.

“I get what you mean though.”

She glanced toward him. “You do?”

“Yeah.”

That surprised her more than it should have. Because objectively she knew nothing about his life. Only that he played in a band and apparently had fans intense enough to nearly combust upon seeing him.

Still, he looked so effortless. Like he belonged completely inside his own life.

Yunho noticed her expression immediately. “You thought I was about to give some inspirational speech, didn’t you?”

“A little.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

She smiled faintly. “So what do you mean then?”

For a moment he stayed quiet.

Then he exhaled softly through his nose.

“I love music,” he said simply. “I love performing. I love the band.” A small smile appeared briefly. “And honestly, I love the guys. They’re basically family at this point.”

The affection in his voice returned again while talking about them.

Y/N found herself smiling slightly at it. “But?” she asked gently.

Yunho glanced upward toward the dark skyline above them.

“Sometimes it gets too loud.”

The answer came quietly.

“What does that mean?”

He shrugged one shoulder slightly. “People constantly wanting things from you. Expectations. Pressure.” His mouth curved faintly without humor. “Feeling like one mistake suddenly matters to millions of strangers.”

Y/N slowed slightly without realizing it. Millions?

“You weren’t kidding about being famous.”

Yunho laughed softly. “I told you already.”

“No, you told me your band had fans. That’s different.”

“It’s kinda the same thing.”

“It absolutely is not.”

He grinned slightly at her reaction.

“How famous are we talking exactly?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“How embarrassing you want this conversation to become.”

“That sounds threatening.”

“A little.”

They stopped briefly near a convenience store glowing brightly against the dark street.

A group of teenagers spilled out laughing loudly with bags full of snacks.

Yunho waited until they passed before answering.

“Our band’s Ateez.”

Y/N repeated the name slowly in her head again.

Still nothing.

Which honestly felt increasingly ridiculous at this point.

“I really don’t know you guys.”

“You’ve made that painfully clear.”

“Sorry.”

He laughed quietly. “It’s fine.”

“No, but seriously.” She looked at him carefully. “How famous?”

Yunho scratched lightly at the back of his neck.

“We have around…” He named a number casually.

Y/N stopped walking entirely. “What?”

He repeated it.

Her jaw nearly dropped. “That’s monthly streams?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“That’s insane.”

Yunho immediately looked amused by her reaction.

“No wonder those girls nearly fainted.”

“They weren’t that bad.”

“One of them looked seconds away from cardiac arrest.”

“She survived.”

“I’m actually concerned now.” Y/N stared at him again. “Wait. Like world tours famous?”

“Kinda.”

“You’ve been on world tours?”

“Yeah.”

“And award shows?”

“Some.”

“And people recognize you internationally?”

Yunho’s grin widened slowly while she continued spiraling.

“Oh my god.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly hard.”

“Because you don’t seem famous!”

That made him laugh properly. Bright and warm beneath the city lights.

“What does famous even look like?”

“I don’t know.” She gestured vaguely toward him. “More annoying maybe.”

He looked deeply offended. “Excuse you.”

“I mean it nicely.”

“That sounded incredibly rude.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yunho shook his head, still laughing softly.

Then he glanced toward her sideways beneath the brim of his cap.

“I actually like that you said that.”

“What?”

“That I don’t seem famous.”

Something softer slipped briefly into his expression again.

“Most people act weird after they recognize me.”

Y/N looked at him thoughtfully. “You seem normal.”

“That’s because I am normal.”

“You literally perform for millions of people.”

“And?”

“And that’s objectively not normal.”

“Fair.”

They continued walking after that, slower now.

The city had thinned slightly as it grew later. Fewer cars. Quieter sidewalks. Storefronts closing one by one beneath glowing signs.

Y/N kept stealing occasional glances at him now.

Not because he suddenly seemed different after learning the truth. Oddly enough, he didn’t.

If anything, the idea of him being globally famous clashed strangely with how casually he walked beside her talking about instant ramen and dumb college stories.

Maybe that was why she believed him when he said the pressure became overwhelming sometimes.

Because underneath everything else, he still just felt human.

They turned another corner.

Then Y/N stopped abruptly. Bright neon lights glowed ahead beneath a massive sign.

ARCADE PLANET.

Rows of flashing machines were visible through the windows. Music spilled faintly onto the sidewalk every time the entrance doors opened.

Yunho followed her gaze immediately. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You’ve never been to an arcade, have you?”

She blinked. “How did you know that?”

“Your face.”

“What about my face?”

“You look curious but deeply intimidated.”

“I am not intimidated.”

“You absolutely are.”

Y/N looked back toward the building.

Truthfully, she had always wanted to go to one growing up.

But arcades had seemed like things other people did.

Cooler people. People with groups of friends and easy confidence and enough money to waste on games. Not awkward teenagers who spent most lunch breaks studying in libraries.

“I just never had a reason to go,” she muttered.

Yunho looked genuinely scandalized. “That’s tragic.”

“It’s not tragic.”

“It’s deeply tragic.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“No.” He pointed dramatically toward the glowing entrance. “We’re fixing this immediately.”

Y/N laughed softly. “You sound way too excited.”

“I love arcades.”

“That somehow makes perfect sense.”

“Come on.”

Before she could protest further, Yunho grabbed her wrist lightly and started pulling her toward the entrance.

Warm neon light spilled across the sidewalk ahead of them. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Y/N followed something impulsive without stopping herself first.

The arcade was loud in the best possible way.

Not overwhelming like the office.

Lights flashed from every direction in bright blues, pinks, reds, and golds. Old game music blended with electronic sound effects and bursts of laughter from crowded machines. Somewhere near the back, someone yelled loudly in triumph while another person groaned in defeat.

Warm air smelled faintly like sugar, popcorn, and cheap plastic.

Y/N stopped just inside the entrance, staring around properly.“This place is insane.”

Yunho looked deeply pleased by her reaction.

“You really never came to one before?”

“Not unless you count mobile games.”

“That’s actually sad.”

“You’ve said that about three different things tonight.”

“Because your childhood sounds deprived.”

“My childhood was fine.”

“Wrong.” He pointed toward a basketball machine nearby. “You’ve simply never experienced greatness.”

Y/N laughed softly while he dragged her further inside.

It felt strange being here in office clothes. Around them, most people wore hoodies or oversized jackets or casual date-night outfits. Meanwhile she still looked like she had escaped a late-night business meeting.

Yet somehow she no longer cared as much. Maybe because Yunho looked equally ridiculous with his baseball cap pulled low while trying very hard not to get recognized. Or maybe because the entire night already felt disconnected from reality anyway.

Yunho exchanged bills for coins while Y/N wandered beside him looking around curiously.

“You’re way too excited,” she observed.

“I’m competitive.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It is.”

He handed her a handful of coins. “Prepare to lose.”

“Excuse you?”

“You’ll understand soon.”

Unfortunately, he was right.

The first game was basketball.

Y/N lost horribly. Not even close.

Yunho somehow made nearly every shot while she struggled to aim properly fast enough before the timer ended.

“This machine hates me,” she complained while the screen displayed her humiliating score.

“No,” Yunho said smugly. “You’re just weak.”

“I want you to know I genuinely dislike you right now.”

“That’s okay.” He grinned brightly. “I’m still winning.”

The second game involved racing motorcycles. Yunho won again.

The third was air hockey. Yunho won again.

The fourth was a rhythm game she did not even fully understand. Yunho somehow still won again.

By the fifth loss, Y/N had officially reached her limit.

“This is rigged,” she declared while crossing her arms.

Yunho looked delighted. “You’re pouting.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I just think you’re suspiciously good at everything.”

“That sounds like jealousy.”

“That sounds like narcissism.”

He laughed loudly enough that a few nearby people glanced over briefly.

Y/N noticed him subtly lowering his cap afterward.

Even while relaxed, some part of him remained aware of being recognized. Still, the awareness disappeared quickly again once he looked back at her.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “you’re taking these losses surprisingly personally.”

“Because I thought I’d at least win once.”

“You nearly beat me at air hockey.”

“I lost by twelve points.”

“That’s basically victory.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you continue spending time with me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Yunho grinned again before suddenly looking around the arcade thoughtfully.

“What?”

“You need a consolation prize.”

“I don’t need a consolation prize.”

“You do. Your spirit looks crushed.”

“My spirit is fine.”

“Debatable.”

Before she could argue further, he grabbed her wrist lightly again and started guiding her through rows of flashing machines.

The claw machine section glowed brightest in the entire arcade.

Dozens lined the walls packed with plushies, figures, candy, and random prizes. Neon lights reflected across the glass while electronic music chimed softly from different machines.

Y/N slowed almost immediately. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

She stepped toward one machine instinctively.

Inside sat rows of plushies dressed in tiny shark hoodies.

Mofusand cats.

One in particular rested near the front pressed against the glass. Grey and fluffy with a tiny blue shark hood slightly crooked over ist head.

Cute enough to physically hurt.

Yunho noticed her expression instantly. “There it is.”

“What?”

“The face again.”

She glanced toward him. “What face?”

“The one where you see something you like but immediately decide you shouldn’t ask for it.”

Y/N frowned slightly. “That’s oddly specific.”

He looked through the machine thoughtfully.

“You want that one?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

Yunho raised an eyebrow immediately. “You literally stopped walking for it.”

“It’s just cute.”

“So you do want it.”

Y/N crossed her arms lightly. “It’s probably impossible to win anyway.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Yunho.”

“Wait here.”

Before she could stop him, he disappeared toward the coin machine nearby.

Y/N stared after him in disbelief.

Two minutes later he returned carrying enough coins to financially ruin someone.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“That’s way too many.”

“You underestimate my determination.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Correct.”

He crouched slightly in front of the claw machine while feeding coins into it.

Y/N watched with growing amusement. “You know,” she said, “if you lose all your money trying to get a shark cat plushie, that’s entirely on you.”

“I’m literally a professional.”

“At claw machines?”

“At winning.”

“That’s unfortunately confident.”

The first try failed immediately.

The claw barely grabbed the plushie before dropping it again.

Yunho narrowed his eyes at the machine. “Okay.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N laughed softly. “You don’t have to get it.”

“No.” He cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Now it’s personal.”

The second try failed too. Then the third. By the fifth attempt, Y/N had to physically cover her mouth to stop laughing too loudly.

“This is painful to watch.”

“The machine is cheating.”

“Sure.”

“It is.”

“You’re losing to a stuffed cat.”

“Temporary setback.”

People passing nearby had started glancing over occasionally.

Mostly because Yunho looked absurdly intense about this.

At one point he leaned closer to the glass like he was trying to psychologically intimidate the machine itself.

Y/N laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. “You’re insane.”

“I’m focused.”

“That plushie does not fear you.”

“It should.”

The seventh try almost worked.

The plushie lifted halfway before slipping loose again at the last second.

Yunho stared in betrayal.

Y/N burst into laughter again. “Oh no. That one hurt your feelings.”

“I was emotionally invested.”

“You’re fighting for your life against a toy.”

“I can still win.”

By the tenth try, Y/N finally touched his arm lightly. “Seriously, it’s okay.”

Yunho glanced toward her.

“You already spent enough coins.”

“I’m committed now.”

“You don’t need to buy me things.”

Something softer crossed his expression briefly then. “It’s not about buying something.”

Before she could answer, he turned back toward the machine with renewed determination.

The claw lowered again.

Grabbed the plushie. Lifted.

For one horrible second it looked ready to fall again.

Then finally dropped cleanly into the prize slot.

Yunho shot upward immediately.

“Oh my god.”

“You did not just celebrate like you won the Olympics.”

“I absolutely did.”

Y/N laughed helplessly while he grabbed the plushie triumphantly from the slot below.

The tiny shark cat looked ridiculously soft beneath the arcade lights.

Yunho turned toward her with the biggest grin she had seen from him all night.

“Victory.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know.”

He stepped closer before gently placing the plushie into her arms.

The soft fur brushed against her fingers immediately.

Embarrassingly enough, it genuinely made her happy.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said quietly.

“I know.”

His eyes flicked briefly between her and the plushie before he smiled slightly.

“It resembles you.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“You’re both cute.”

Heat rushed into her face so fast it physically hurt.

Yunho looked entirely too pleased by her reaction.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re horrible.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

Unfortunately true.

Y/N looked down quickly at the plushie to avoid his grin.

The stupid thing was adorable.

And somehow that made the moment worse.

Because no one had flirted with her this openly in a long time.

Not without ulterior motives or awkward dating apps or forced office charm.

Yunho simply seemed to enjoy making her flustered. Which was deeply unfair considering how attractive he already was.

“You’re smiling at it,” he observed smugly.

“I’m not.”

“You literally are.”

She hugged the plushie slightly closer out of spite. “Mind your business.”

“That’s my child now too.”

“That sentence made me uncomfortable.”

He laughed brightly again.

The sound followed them as they wandered through the arcade afterward.

Y/N still lost most games. Though at some point Yunho started letting her win occasionally so obviously that she became offended again.

“You missed that on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You literally stared at the target and shot the opposite direction.”

“Maybe I panicked.”

“You’re terrible at lying.”

By the time they finally stepped back outside, cold air hit her flushed face sharply enough to wake her up again.

The city looked quieter now.

Not asleep. Just slower.

Y/N checked her phone briefly out of habit before immediately regretting it.

2:11 a.m.

“How is it already that late?”

Yunho glanced over. “You sound disappointed.”

“No, just confused.”

“Time moves weird at night.”

She smiled faintly at that.

The plushie remained tucked beneath her arm while they walked.

Yunho noticed. “You’re really attached already.”

“She’s been through a lot.”

“She?”

“Obviously.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets while they wandered down another street.

Then abruptly stopped walking.

Y/N nearly bumped into him. “What?”

Yunho looked completely serious. “I’m starving.”

“That serious huh?”

“I could eat an entire person.”

“That’s concerning.”

“Come on.”

Before she could ask further, he grabbed her wrist again and started pulling her toward the subway entrance nearby.

“Where are we going?”

“Food.”

“That explains nothing.”

“It’s more fun this way.”

The train ride felt oddly peaceful.

Most passengers at this hour looked exhausted or half asleep. A couple sat together silently sharing earbuds near the opposite door. Someone in business clothes snored lightly against the window.

Y/N rested her chin briefly against the plushie while Yunho sat beside her scrolling through something on his phone.

At one point he suddenly tilted the screen toward her. A picture of Wooyoung asleep face-first on a table.

Y/N laughed immediately. “He looks dead.”

“He drank too much at Hongjoong’s birthday last year.”

“You just keep pictures like that?”

“I have worse.” He grinned proudly.

The train eventually carried them closer toward the river.

By the time they emerged outside again, colder wind swept across the streets carrying the smell of water and food stalls nearby.

The Han River stretched dark beneath glowing city lights.

Street vendors lined sections of the walkway despite the late hour. Steam curled upward from grills and soup pots while small groups of people crowded around plastic tables eating and drinking beneath overhead lights.

Y/N stopped briefly just taking it in.

Everything tonight kept feeling strangely cinematic.

Like one of those memories people romanticized years later.

Yunho guided her toward one vendor already greeting him warmly.

“You come here often?” she asked.

“Sometimes after schedules.”

The owner handed them menus immediately.

Y/N barely finished reading before Yunho ordered enough food for four people.

“That’s too much.”

“You’ll thank me later.”

Unfortunately, he was right again.

The bulgogi arrived first sizzling hot and smelling incredible. Then kimchi stew rich enough to warm her entire body instantly.

A few drinks followed afterward. Then a few more.

At some point Y/N stopped feeling the cold entirely.

The world softened pleasantly around the edges instead.

Not drunk exactly. Just warm. Relaxed.

Yunho sat across from her with flushed cheeks and messy hair escaping beneath his cap while stealing pieces of meat from her plate dramatically.

“You ordered enough to feed a village.”

“And yet you’re still eating it.”

“Fair.”

She laughed quietly before taking another sip of her drink.

The river shimmered beyond them beneath city lights.

People nearby talked loudly between bursts of laughter.

Everything felt distant in the nicest way.

Yunho rested his chin against his hand while watching her.

“What?”

“You look happier.”

The words slipped softly into the night air.

Y/N looked down briefly at her food. Maybe she did.

For once her chest did not feel tight. For once she was not thinking about emails or deadlines or tomorrow morning.

Just this moment.

This strange beautiful impulsive night.

“When I was little,” she said suddenly, “my dad used to take me to this lake outside the city.”

Yunho looked at her quietly.

“We’d go really early in the morning before it got crowded.” A small smile tugged at her mouth. “I used to think it was the biggest lake in the world.”

“What changed?”

“I grew up.”She laughed softly.“It was beautiful though.” She stirred her spoon slowly through the stew. “There was this tiny dock where we used to sit for hours. My dad would fish and I’d draw things in this little notebook.”

The memory rose vividly enough to ache slightly.

Cold morning air. Birds over the water. Her father laughing while she complained about tangled fishing lines.

Yunho watched her carefully. “You miss it.”

“Yeah.”

“Then why haven’t you gone back?”

Y/N hesitated briefly. Because there was no good answer.

“Life, I guess.”

Work. Exhaustion. Growing older.

Somewhere along the way she kept thinking there would be time later. And suddenly years had passed.

Yunho leaned back slightly in his chair.

“That’s a terrible reason.”

“I know.”

Silence settled comfortably for a second.

Then Yunho’s eyes brightened slightly. “Perfect.”

Y/N frowned. “That tone again.”

“We’re going.”

“To the lake?”

“Obviously.”

She stared at him. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s almost three in the morning.”

“Exactly.”

“That explained nothing.”

Yunho was already standing. “Come on.”

Y/N laughed helplessly while he paid for the food despite her protests.

The cold air hit them again once they stepped away from the vendor.

Yunho walked beside her while she hugged the plushie beneath one arm and tried not to laugh at how absurd her life had become in the last few hours.

At midnight she had been answering work emails mentally on a train. Now she was tipsy beside a famous musician heading toward a childhood lake at three in the morning carrying a shark cat plushie.

Objectively insane. And yet she had not felt this alive in years.

The train ride toward the lake was quieter this time. Mostly empty.

Y/N sat beside the window while city lights blurred past outside.

Yunho leaned comfortably back in his seat across from her, watching her more than his phone now.

“You know,” he said eventually, “I’m having fun today.”

The honesty in his voice made her look up immediately.

“You say that like you expected not to.”

“No.” He smiled slightly. “I just didn’t realize how much I needed a normal night.”

Y/N looked at him thoughtfully. Normal.

That word sounded strange coming from someone with millions of listeners.

Still, she understood what he meant.

No schedules. No expectations. No pretending.

Just wandering through the city talking about random things until morning arrived.

Yunho checked his phone briefly then blinked. “Oh wow.”

“What?”

“It’s already three.”

Y/N stared too.

3:07 a.m.

“How does that even happen?”

“See?” He looked unfairly pleased. “Good nights move fast.”

And for once, Y/N found herself hoping this one would slow down instead.

By the time they reached the lake, the sky had started shifting toward that strange hour between night and morning.

Not sunrise yet. But close enough that the darkness no longer felt endless.

The station nearby was almost empty when they stepped off the train. Their footsteps echoed softly along the quiet platform while cold air drifted through the open space.

Y/N walked slightly ahead now, leading the way from memory alone.

It had been years. Still, her body remembered the route instinctively.

The narrow road curving past sleeping houses. The old convenience store near the crossing. The small path disappearing between rows of trees further ahead.

Yunho followed beside her quietly, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket while she carried the plushie tucked beneath one arm.

The city noise faded more with every step.

Soon there was only wind moving through branches overhead and the distant sound of water somewhere ahead.

Y/N slowed automatically once the lake finally came into view through the trees.

And even after all these years, her chest tightened at the sight of it.

Moonlight stretched silver across the water. The lake lay perfectly still beneath the night sky, surrounded by dark trees and empty docks weathered softly with age. The world reflected across the surface almost clearly enough to look unreal.

Beautiful in that quiet aching way only places from childhood could be.

Beside her, Yunho stopped walking completely. “Whoa.”

The sound escaped him softly enough that Y/N looked over immediately.

He was staring openly at the lake. Actually stunned.

“It’s…” He blinked once slowly. “Holy shit.”

Y/N smiled before she could stop herself.

Something warm spread through her chest at his expression. “Told you.”

“No, you absolutely undersold this place.”

Moonlight brushed softly across his face while he looked around. For once he seemed genuinely speechless.

Which honestly felt like an achievement.

Y/N watched him instead of the lake for a second.

The slight wonder in his expression. The looseness in his shoulders. The way he looked younger somehow away from flashing lights and crowded streets.

“You really used to come here as a kid?” he asked quietly.

“Every summer.”

“That’s insane.” He looked back toward the water again. “I think I’d become a poet if I grew up around this.”

She laughed softly.

“It’s true.”

They walked further down toward the dock slowly.

Old wooden boards creaked beneath their steps while the water moved gently below.

Y/N remembered being small enough that her father used to hold her hand crossing this exact dock because she was terrified of falling in.

Now it looked smaller than she remembered. But somehow more beautiful too.

At the end of the dock, they sat beside each other with their feet dangling above the dark water.

Cold air brushed against her damp hair from earlier while silence settled comfortably between them again.

Y/N pulled her knees slightly closer to her chest.

For a while neither spoke.

They simply sat there beneath the moonlight listening to water shift softly against wood below them.

Then Yunho leaned back on his hands. “I get why you missed this place.”

She glanced toward him. “Yeah?”

“It feels…” He searched briefly for words. “Far away from everything.”

Y/N looked back toward the lake. “That’s why my dad liked it.”

“You were close with him?”

The question softened her immediately. “Very.”

A small smile touched her mouth. “He used to wake me up ridiculously early during summer break and I’d pretend to complain the entire drive here.”

“But you secretly liked it.”

“I loved it.”

The memory rose vividly enough to ache slightly. The smell of coffee in the car. Her father humming quietly to old songs on the radio. Drawing badly in her notebook while sunlight reflected across the lake.

Yunho listened quietly beside her.

“You know,” she admitted after a moment, “I think this is one of the last places where I remember feeling completely happy as a kid.”

He turned slightly toward her then.

Moonlight caught faintly against his eyes.

“That’s a heavy sentence.”

Y/N laughed softly under her breath. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” His voice stayed gentle. “I just mean…” He looked out toward the water again. “You sound like someone who misses her old self a little.”

The words hit harder than she expected.

Because that was exactly it.

Missing herself. The version that painted and laughed easier and believed life would become something bigger.

Y/N swallowed lightly before speaking again. “You always say things like that?”

“What?”

“Things that accidentally emotionally devastate people.”

Yunho grinned slightly. “Only on special occasions.”

She rolled her eyes softly.

Then glanced toward him again.

Unfortunately that turned out to be a mistake.

Because now she noticed properly how unfairly attractive he looked sitting there beneath the moonlight.

The dark hair falling messily over his forehead. The oversized hoodie slightly slipping at the collarbone. The silver rings glinting faintly whenever he moved his hands. And worst of all, the softness in his expression while looking at the lake.

Y/N looked away quickly. Too late.

“I caught that.”

Her stomach immediately dropped. “What?”

Yunho looked entirely too amused. “You keep staring at me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You absolutely do.”

Heat climbed straight into her face.

The worst part was that denying it sounded ridiculous because she absolutely had been staring.

Twice. Maybe more.

Yunho shifted slightly closer along the dock. “You think I’m handsome.”

“I literally never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Oh my god.”

He laughed quietly at her obvious embarrassment. Moonlight reflected across the water behind him while he watched her with growing amusement.

“You’re blushing again.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet here you are.”

Y/N groaned softly and covered part of her face with one hand. “This is deeply humiliating.”

“For you maybe.”

“You enjoy this way too much.”

“A little.” His grin widened.

And annoyingly enough, that only made him look prettier.

Y/N immediately looked away again toward the lake.

Unfortunately Yunho noticed that too. “Oh, she’s shy now.”

“I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“You were staring at me like I’m in a romance movie.”

“I was not.”

“You kinda were.”

Y/N wanted to argue.

Instead she made the mistake of looking back at him again.

Yunho was already watching her.

Close now. Much closer than before.

The teasing in his expression softened slightly around the edges.

Something quieter slipping underneath it.

Y/N’s breath caught unexpectedly. Because suddenly she became very aware of everything.

The cold night air. The sound of water below them.

How close his knee rested beside hers on the dock. How pretty he looked beneath moonlight.

Yunho tilted his head slightly while studying her face.

Then slowly, gently, he reached toward her.

Y/N froze immediately.

His fingers brushed softly against her jaw before guiding her face slightly closer toward his.

Warm skin. Careful touch.

Her heart slammed hard enough that she felt it everywhere.

Yunho leaned in.

Closer. Close enough now that she could feel his breath slightly against her skin.

Y/N’s stomach flipped violently.

Oh my god. He was going to kiss her.

The realization hit all at once. And stupidly enough, some reckless part of her wanted him to.

His eyes flicked briefly toward her mouth.

Then suddenly a smirk appeared. “What do you think about swimming?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Before she could process further, Yunho pulled back completely and stood from the dock.

She stared at him in disbelief. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m completely serious.”

“At four in the morning?”

“Best time for it.”

“That’s psychopath behavior.”

Yunho only laughed while tugging his hoodie over his head casually.

Y/N’s brain stopped functioning for approximately three seconds.

Because underneath the hoodie was broad shoulders and damp dark hair and very unfair muscle definition beneath moonlight.

This man was genuinely dangerous to her sanity.

“You’re staring again,” he said smugly.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

He kicked off his shoes next before turning toward the water.

“Yunho, that lake is freezing.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I absolutely know that.”

“Wrong.”

And before she could continue arguing, he jumped.

Water splashed loudly beneath the moonlit dock.

Y/N rushed slightly closer immediately.

“You’re insane!”

Yunho resurfaced seconds later pushing wet hair back from his forehead while laughing.

“The water’s actually warm!”

“You’re lying.”

“I swear!”

He drifted backward slightly in the shallow water below the dock.

Moonlight reflected across the wet skin of his shoulders while he looked up at her grinning like an idiot.

“Come in!”

“Absolutely not.”

“You already came all this way.”

“I also value survival.”

“It’s nice!”

“You’re literally shivering.”

“I’m not.”

He absolutely was.

Y/N laughed softly while hugging the plushie closer against herself.

Then paused.

Because despite herself… It looked fun.

Stupid. Reckless. Childish.

But fun.

Yunho noticed the hesitation instantly. “There it is.”

“What?”

“You’re considering it.”

“No, I’m considering how quickly hypothermia kills people.”

“Coward.”

Her jaw dropped immediately. “Excuse you?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re literally manipulating me.”

“It’s working though.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes down at him.

Then sighed dramatically. “This is your fault.”

“Correct.”

She carefully placed the plushie safely on the dock beside her first.

Then stood slowly.

Yunho watched very openly while she tugged off her shoes.

Then her sweater.

Then paused.

Self-consciousness hit all at once.

The cold air suddenly felt sharper against her bare skin.

Yunho noticed the hesitation immediately.

But unlike earlier, he didn’t tease her this time.

He just watched quietly from the water.

Patient.

Y/N swallowed lightly before finally pulling off the rest of her clothes down to her underwear and tank top.

The moonlight suddenly felt far too bright.

Especially with Yunho staring at her like that.

His expression had changed completely now.

Gone was the teasing grin.

Now he simply looked…Distracted.

Y/N crossed her arms instinctively. “What?”

Yunho blinked once like he had been caught. “Nothing.”

“That sounded suspicious.”

“You’re pretty.”

The words came out so casually that her brain nearly short-circuited.

Before she could respond, embarrassment took over completely and she jumped into the lake immediately.

Instant regret.

The freezing water hit her hard enough to rip a gasp from her throat.

“Oh my god!”

Yunho burst into laughter instantly.

“You liar!”

“It’s not that bad!”

“It’s freezing!”

Y/N splashed water violently toward him while shivering.

“You actual asshole!”

Yunho laughed harder while shielding himself badly from the water she threw at him.

Moonlight reflected across the lake around them while his laughter echoed through the quiet night.

Y/N could not remember the last time she had acted like this.

Then suddenly Yunho moved closer through the shallow water.

Much closer.

The laughter between them softened slightly.

Y/N’s breath caught again as his hands settled carefully against her hips beneath the water.

Warm skin despite the cold lake.

He looked down at her for a second.

Wet hair falling over his forehead. Eyes softer now beneath moonlight.

“You look pretty like this,” he said quietly.

Y/N’s pulse stumbled immediately. “What?”

“Soaking wet. Smiling.” His thumbs brushed lightly against her hips. “Actually enjoying yourself.”

The words settled somewhere deep inside her chest.

Because he looked at her like he genuinely meant it.

No teasing now. Just honesty.

Water moved softly around them while the world suddenly became very still.

Yunho leaned down slowly afterward.

This time without stopping.

His lips met hers gently at first.

Y/N’s entire body went still from shock before melting almost instantly into the kiss.

He kissed her carefully. Like he was trying to savor it.

One hand sliding slightly higher against her waist while the other remained steady at her hip.

The lake disappeared around her completely.

There was only him.

His mouth warm against hers despite the freezing water. His breath catching slightly when she kissed him back harder.

Her fingers instinctively gripping lightly against his shoulders.

When he finally pulled away, both of them stayed close enough that she could still feel his breath against her lips.

Yunho smiled slightly then. Soft. Almost disbelieving.

“I wanted to do that the entire evening.”

Sunlight and birds chirping was the first thing Yunho noticed.

Soft morning light slipping through thin hotel curtains in pale gold streaks across the bed.

For a few quiet seconds he stayed still beneath the blankets, eyes half closed while his brain slowly caught up with consciousness.

His body felt heavy in that pleasant way exhaustion sometimes did after a genuinely good night.

Then memory returned all at once.

The lake.

Cold water.

Y/N laughing while splashing him after realizing he lied about the temperature.

The way she kissed him back.

Skin on skin when they found a hotel room.

A slow smile spread across his face before he even opened his eyes fully.

Holy shit. Last night had actually happened.

Not a schedule. Not another crowded afterparty with people trying to impress him. Not cameras or interviews or management breathing down his neck.

Just wandering through the city with a girl who looked at him like he was normal.

Yunho rubbed tiredly at his face before finally turning slightly toward the other side of the bed.

Empty.

The smile faltered a little. The sheets beside him had already gone cold.

For a second he simply stared at the empty space beside him while sleep still clung foggy around his thoughts.

Then he pushed himself up slowly.

The small twenty-four-hour hotel room looked exactly like he remembered. Clothes abandoned carelessly across the floor. His hoodie hanging from the chair near the window. Y/N’s empty drink cup sitting forgotten on the bedside table.

But no Y/N.

He glanced toward the bathroom automatically. Empty too.

Yunho leaned back against the headboard with a quiet sigh. “Right,” he muttered to himself.

Of course she left. It was morning.

Well, technically almost afternoon judging by the sunlight.

And unlike him, Y/N actually had a normal job to go to.

The thought made him smile faintly again despite the disappointment curling annoyingly in his chest.

He could practically imagine her panic after waking up late. Cursing at the time.

Trying to fix her hair while half asleep.

Probably apologizing to no one while rushing out the door.

Cute.

He stared at the empty bed beside him a second longer than necessary.

Something about waking up alone after last night felt weirdly disappointing. Not because he expected anything dramatic.

Just because somewhere between convenience store drinks, claw machine battles, and kissing in freezing lake water, he had gotten attached to her presence beside him.

Dangerously fast honestly.

Yunho dropped back against the pillows with a groan before grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

His notifications looked horrifying as usual.

Messages from management. Missed calls from San. Approximately forty-seven unread texts from group chats.

One message from Wooyoung simply reading: did u die or get married

Yunho snorted softly.

Then immediately opened his messages again searching for Y/N’s contact.

Nothing.

His smile vanished instantly. A horrible realization settled slowly into place.

They never exchanged numbers.

Yunho stared blankly at his phone.

Then sat upright properly. “No way.”

He checked again anyway.

Instagram. Messages. Contacts.

Nothing.

Because apparently sometime between making out in a lake and ending up tangled together in a cheap hotel room at sunrise, both of them had completely forgotten basic human logic.

“Oh my god.”

Yunho dragged both hands down his face aggressively.

“How did I actually manage that?”

The memory became painfully clear now.

After the lake they had wandered half asleep through quiet streets until the cold became unbearable. Then they found the hotel mostly because neither wanted the night to end yet. But one led to another and they did more things than talking.

After thez talked more there too.

About random things. Favorite movies. Childhood fears. The weirdest foods they ever ate.

At one point Y/N fell asleep halfway through explaining why office birthday celebrations felt emotionally dystopian.

And Yunho remembered lying there beside her thinking that he genuinely could listen to her speak forever.

Yet somehow he never asked for her number.

Actual idiot behavior.

He groaned loudly into his hands. “Unbelievable.”

For a brief insane second he considered running back to the lake.

Or the train station. Or her office.

Except he had absolutely no idea where she worked beyond “corporate misery.”

Yunho collapsed backward dramatically onto the mattress again.

He knew thousands of people. Performed in sold-out arenas. Had managers, assistants, security teams.

And somehow he lost the one girl who genuinely made him feel normal because he forgot to ask for her phone number.

Pathetic.

Eventually he forced himself out of bed.

The hotel mirror revealed exactly what he expected.

Messy hair sticking up in every direction. Faint bruised shadows beneath his eyes. Lips slightly swollen from kissing.

He stared at himself for a second before laughing quietly under his breath.

He looked happier than he had in months.

That realization hit unexpectedly hard.

Usually after nights out he woke up drained. Social battery dead. Already dreading schedules and cameras and expectations waiting outside.

Today felt different.

Lighter somehow.

Even with the frustration twisting in his chest now.

Yunho showered quickly before pulling on yesterday’s clothes again. His hoodie still smelled faintly like lake water and Y/N’s perfume.

That absolutely did not help his mood.

By the time he left the hotel, the city had fully woken.

Cars crowded intersections. People hurried through sidewalks carrying coffees and briefcases. The normal rhythm of daytime life had returned.

Yunho shoved his hands deeper into his pockets while walking back toward the bar.

Sleep deprivation finally started catching up slightly now.

Still, his brain refused to shut up.

Everywhere he looked reminded him of last night.

Convenience stores. Train stations. Streetlights reflecting against wet pavement.

He kept thinking about Y/N laughing. About the way she looked sitting at the lake staring at the water like she had rediscovered something she thought she lost. About how naturally she fit beside him.

Dangerous thoughts honestly.

Because Yunho did not do attachment easily anymore.

Not real attachment.

Too many people approached him already wanting something.

Fame complicated everything. Even casual conversations often carried expectations underneath them once people recognized him.

But Y/N…

Y/N looked at him like he was just a guy dragging her into arcades at three in the morning.

And maybe that was exactly why he could not stop thinking about her.

The familiar neon sign of the bar appeared eventually down the street.

Moonlight Room looked quieter during daytime. Less alive somehow. Still, music already drifted faintly from inside when Yunho pushed open the door.

The second he entered, six heads turned toward him immediately.

“Oh my god,” Wooyoung shouted loud enough to echo through the mostly empty bar. “The whore returns.”

Yunho flipped him off instantly.

Seonghwa laughed from behind the counter while polishing glasses.

“You look terrible,” Hongjoong observed from one of the booths.

“That’s because he got no sleep,” San announced proudly.

“Jealousy is ugly on you,” Yunho muttered while walking further inside.

Mingi leaned dramatically across the booth table. “So?” he demanded immediately. “What happened?”

Yunho dropped into the empty seat beside Jongho with a tired groan. “Nothing.”

Seven voices yelled at once. “Liar.”

“Bullshit.”

“You literally disappeared.”

“You kissed her didn’t you?”

Yunho nearly choked.

Yeosang looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Oh my god,” Yunho muttered. “How do you know that?”

“You never did something like that with any women you dated.”

“That could mean anything.”

“It really couldn’t,” Jongho said flatly.

The entire booth burst into laughter.

Yunho rubbed his face tiredly while Wooyoung dramatically slid into the seat across from him.

“So.” Wooyoung grinned. “Corporate girl.”

Yunho felt himself smiling automatically before he could stop it.

Unfortunately everyone noticed immediately. The reaction around the table became instant chaos.

“Oh he’s gone,” San declared.

“Look at his face,” Mingi wheezed.

“That’s disgusting actually,” Hongjoong added.

Yunho shoved him lightly.

“Shut up.”

“No wait,” Wooyoung interrupted dramatically. “You actually like her.”

Yunho opened his mouth automatically to deny it.

Then paused.

Because honestly? Yeah. He did.

Way more than he probably should after one night.

The realization sat strangely easy in his chest though.

So instead of denying it, he leaned back against the booth and shrugged slightly.

“I had fun.”

The teasing quieted a little at that.

Yunho looked down briefly at the table while smiling to himself.

“She’s funny,” he admitted. “And smart.” His grin widened slightly at the memory. “She gets embarrassed really easily when you flirt with her.”

“Oh my god,” Wooyoung whispered dramatically. “He’s giggling internally.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“She sounds nice,” Seonghwa said more gently from beside the counter.

“She is.”

Yunho meant it immediately. Not just nice.

Real. The kind of real he rarely encountered lately.

Hongjoong studied him carefully from across the booth.

“So what’s the issue then?”

Yunho frowned slightly. “What?”

“You clearly like her.” Hongjoong gestured vaguely. “So call her again.”

The entire table nodded like this was painfully obvious.

Yunho stared at them silently. Then looked away.

Immediately suspicious silence fell.

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Yunho.”

He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “We maybe forgot something.”

San blinked once. “What.”

Yunho groaned quietly already knowing what was coming.

“We forgot to exchange contact information.”

Silence. Absolute silence.

Then the entire booth exploded.

Mingi physically fell sideways laughing.

Wooyoung slammed both hands against the table in disbelief. “You absolute idiot!”

Hongjoong looked genuinely horrified. “No way.”

“She left and you didn’t even get her number?”

“I forgot!”

“How do you forget that?” San yelled.

“I don’t know!”

Yeosang leaned back calmly shaking his head. “This might actually be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“That’s saying a lot,” Jongho added.

Seonghwa looked moments away from crying laughing behind the counter.

Yunho buried his face in his hands while chaos continued around him.

“You spent the entire night flirting with her,” Wooyoung shouted. “You literally vanished together like a romance movie.”

“And then forgot the most important part,” Mingi wheezed.

Hongjoong pointed accusingly. “This is why you’d never survive without us.”

“I’m aware.”

“No actually,” San interrupted. “This is genuinely tragic.”

Yunho groaned louder. Because the worst part?

They were right. Completely right.

And judging by the way his chest already felt strangely empty without her around, he really needed to find Y/N again somehow.

Main Masterlist | Yunhos Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The first sign that something was going wrong should’ve been the way Mingi was smiling.

Not his usual soft, slightly chaotic grin that made fans laugh along even when he wasn’t trying. No—this one had edges. Sharp, excited, a little too aware of the chat scrolling by on the livestream screen.

You noticed it immediately from the couch behind him, curled up with your knees tucked under a blanket you had no business needing in the middle of his dorm living room.

“You’re doing great,” you mouthed at him quietly, holding up a thumbs-up.

Mingi nodded enthusiastically… then leaned a little too far toward the mic.

That should’ve been your second warning.

“Okay, okay,” he said into the camera, voice bright. “Before we continue, I have something important to tell everyone.”

You frowned.

He wasn’t supposed to have anything important. This was just a casual livestream—him talking nonsense, reading comments, occasionally getting roasted by fans. You were just there because he’d begged you to keep him company.

The chat exploded immediately.

WHAT?? IMPORTANT??

MINGI DID YOU BREAK SOMETHING

IS THIS A COMEBACK SPOILER???

You slowly sat up.

“Mingi,” you whispered. “What are you doing?”

He ignored you completely.

“So,” he continued, clasping his hands dramatically, “you all think I’m the embarrassing one in my friend group, right?”

A pause.

A grin.

“That’s not true. Because I have a friend who—”

Your stomach dropped.

“No,” you said immediately, sharper this time.

He looked over his shoulder at you.

And smiled like a traitor.

“—once tried to microwave metal because she thought it would ‘warm up faster if it was shiny.’”

Silence.

Then chaos.

The chat detonated.

NO WAY

MINGI EXPOSED HER 😭

MICROWAVE METAL??

I NEED CONTEXT

IS THIS REAL

You had already launched yourself off the couch.

“Mingi!” you hissed. “Shut up!”

He was laughing now, full-on wheezing, completely unbothered.

“It gets worse!” he said, pointing at you like he was narrating a documentary. “She also—”

You tackled him.

Well. You tried to.

He caught you mid-fall with one arm, still laughing, microphone squealing as it picked up both your voices.

“Stop!” you groaned, half mortified, half furious. “Turn it off!”

“I can’t!” he said through laughter. “It’s live!”

That was the moment you realized your life was over.

The clip went viral within an hour.

Of course it did.

By the time you got home that night, your phone had already become unusable. Messages, screenshots, edits of the clip, fans joking about “microwave girl” like it was your official identity now.

You lay face-first on your bed.

“This is how I die,” you muttered into your pillow. “Socially.”

Your phone buzzed again.

Mingi.

You ignored it.

It buzzed again.

And again.

And again.

Finally, you picked up.

“What,” you said flatly.

There was a pause on the other end.

“…I’m sorry.”

You sat up slightly.

Mingi’s voice was softer than usual. No teasing. No laughter.

“I didn’t think it would blow up like that,” he admitted. “I thought it was just funny. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You literally broadcast my worst moment to millions of people.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know. I messed up.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, quieter:

“I feel really bad.”

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your face.

“I hate you a little right now,” you admitted.

“I deserve that.”

Another pause.

“…Can I fix it?”

You hesitated.

“That depends,” you said. “Can you erase the internet?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

He groaned.

The next day, he showed up at your door.

You opened it in pajamas, hair a mess, still emotionally recovering.

Mingi stood there holding a paper bag and looking unusually serious.

Inside the bag: snacks. Too many snacks.

“I brought offerings,” he said.

You stared at him.

“I’m not bribing you,” he added quickly. “It’s… apology fuel.”

You sighed and stepped aside.

“Come in before someone recognizes you.”

He entered quietly, unusually subdued.

For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. He sat on the floor beside your coffee table, carefully placing snacks in a neat row like that would somehow fix what he did.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“You know I’m never living that down, right?”

He winced.

“I know.”

“My cousin texted me.”

He froze. “Oh no.”

“She asked if I’m really ‘microwave girl.’”

He buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned again. “I didn’t think before I spoke. I was trying to be funny and it just—” He gestured vaguely. “Exploded.”

You watched him for a moment.

He looked genuinely miserable. Not performative, not exaggerated. Just… guilty.

That softened something in your chest despite yourself.

“You’re kind of an idiot,” you said.

“I know.”

A beat.

“…A loud idiot,” you added.

He peeked at you through his fingers. “Still mad?”

You considered it.

“Yes,” you said. “But less murderous now.”

He sighed in relief. “Progress.”

The apology tour began after that.

Not in a dramatic way—just Mingi, trying.

Day two: he brought you coffee exactly the way you liked it without asking.

Day three: he tried to “counter-embarrass himself” by telling his fans a story about him falling off a stage prop during rehearsal. It worked… slightly.

Day four: he showed up with a list.

You squinted at it. “What is that?”

“My redemption plan,” he said proudly.

“Why is it color-coded?”

“Because I’m serious about this.”

You read the first line.

Step 1: Public apology stream

“No.”

He crossed it out immediately.

“Okay.”

Step 2: Make up a new embarrassing story about myself

You looked at him.

He looked back, hopeful.

“That doesn’t help me,” you said.

“…It helps me.”

You sighed.

“Keep going.”

By the fifth day, something had shifted.

The incident was still everywhere—clips, jokes, edits—but the sting of it had dulled. Partly because the internet moved fast. Mostly because Mingi refused to let it sit without balance.

He talked about you constantly, but never in a way that gave away too much. Always redirecting attention onto himself, always making himself the punchline instead.

He even went on another livestream and, unprompted, said:

“By the way, I once tried to cook pasta without water.”

The chat had never recovered.

And yet, he still showed up at your place afterward, tired but hopeful.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” you told him one evening, as you both sat on the floor eating takeout.

He shrugged.

“I want to.”

“Why?”

He paused, then leaned his head back against the couch.

“Because I hate the idea that I made you feel small,” he said simply.

That made you quiet.

Mingi glanced at you sideways.

“You’re not small,” he added quickly. “You’re just… unfortunately now associated with microwaves.”

Despite yourself, you snorted.

“Thanks.”

He smiled a little.

A softer one this time.

A week later, you were back on his couch again, scrolling through your phone while he practiced something on his laptop.

“Hey,” he said suddenly.

You hummed.

“I have a question.”

“Dangerous.”

He ignored that.

“Are we okay?”

You looked at him.

He looked… nervous. In a way you didn’t often see.

Like he was afraid the answer might actually matter more than he wanted it to.

You thought about it.

About the embarrassment. The internet. The messages.

About the fact that he had spent an entire week trying—clumsily, persistently—to make it right.

Then you sighed.

“We’re okay,” you said. “But if you ever expose me like that again, I’m leaking your childhood photos.”

His eyes widened.

“Fair.”

A pause.

Then he grinned.

“…Do you actually have them?”

You smiled slowly.

“Oh, Mingi.”

That was enough answer.

He groaned.

And for the first time since the livestream, the laugh that followed didn’t feel like damage control.

You didn’t think it would become a problem.

Honestly, it had started as a throwaway comment—something casual, something light, something meant to exist and die within the same five seconds.

“You know,” you’d said, leaning back on the studio couch while ATEEZ waited for their next schedule segment to be set up, “I could probably beat San in, like, anything if I actually tried.”

It wasn’t even aimed at him directly. It was more general, conversational, a joke tossed into the air like confetti.

Unfortunately, San heard it.

And worse—he processed it.

There was a pause. A shift in energy so subtle you almost missed it. Then San slowly turned his head toward you, eyes narrowing like he was recalculating every life decision that led to this moment.

“…What did you say?”

You blinked. “It was a joke.”

San straightened immediately. “No, repeat it. Exactly.”

You hesitated. “I said I could probably beat you in anything if I tried?”

The room went quiet in that very specific way it only does when someone in the group senses entertainment is about to be replaced by chaos.

Hongjoong looked up from his phone. Seonghwa sighed like he already knew where this was going. Wooyoung visibly lit up like someone had just pressed a “start drama” button.

San, meanwhile, pointed at you.

“You’re on.”

“…I’m sorry?”

“You challenged me,” he said seriously. “I accept.”

“That wasn’t a challenge, that was—”

“A declaration of war,” Wooyoung supplied immediately.

“It absolutely was not,” you said.

San stood up.

That was your first mistake—assuming this would stay contained.

Because the moment he stood up, he transformed. Not physically. Not dramatically. But in intent. Like something in him had locked onto a mission objective labeled prove superiority immediately.

“I choose the competition format,” San said.

“I didn’t agree to—”

“Too late.”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose. “San, we have schedules.”

“This is schedule,” San said firmly.

Seonghwa muttered, “We’re doomed.”

The first “competition” was announced that evening.

You were sitting in the dorm kitchen, eating cereal, when San walked in holding a whiteboard.

A whiteboard.

He placed it on the table with the seriousness of someone entering a courtroom.

“I have prepared categories,” he said.

You stared at him. “You… made a spreadsheet?”

“It’s not a spreadsheet, it’s a fairness system.”

“It’s laminated.”

“Yes.”

You looked around slowly, hoping someone would intervene.

No one did.

Wooyoung was already sitting on the counter like a gremlin watching television. Mingi had popcorn. Yeosang looked mildly concerned but also curious. Jongho looked like he was deciding whether to stop this or let it become educational.

San tapped the board.

“Category one: reaction time.”

You blinked. “Reaction time to what?”

He smiled. “That’s the test.”

You were not prepared for the “test” to involve Wooyoung throwing a slipper across the room without warning.

You also were not prepared for San to immediately shout “NOW!” like this was the Olympics.

You yelped, flinched dramatically, and ducked.

San caught it mid-air.

Silence.

He slowly turned toward you, expression unreadable.

“…One point,” he said.

“That’s not how reaction time works,” you protested.

“It is now.”

Wooyoung applauded like a sports commentator. “San leads 1–0!”

“I didn’t agree to scoring!”

“You agreed when you made the challenge,” San said.

“I DIDN’T MAKE A CHALLENGE!”

He ignored you.

That was the second mistake.

The next morning, you woke up to a knock on your door.

It was San.

He was holding flashcards.

You stared at him from the doorway. “It’s 7 AM.”

“Perfect cognitive peak,” he said.

“I’m not doing math at 7 AM.”

“This is part of the competition.”

“There is no competition.”

San held up a card.

“What is 37 times 14?”

You squinted. “Why would I—”

“GO.”

You sighed and did it in your head. “518.”

San paused.

Checked his card.

Looked back at you.

“…Correct.”

He wrote something down.

“You’re keeping score in your head,” you realized.

“Yes.”

“That’s unhealthy.”

“It’s strategic.”

It escalated quickly after that.

Too quickly.

By day three, the dorm had been rearranged into what San called “neutral testing grounds,” which mostly meant he had cleared space in the living room and dragged in random objects like a man preparing for gladiatorial combat.

“This is ridiculous,” you said, standing barefoot on the carpet.

San was stretching.

“Flexibility matters.”

“For what?”

“Victory.”

Wooyoung was officiating again. “First to touch the ceiling wins!”

“There is no ceiling challenge,” you said.

“There is now,” San said calmly.

You looked up at the ceiling.

Then at him.

“…You’re insane.”

“Focused,” he corrected.

The challenge: jump and touch the ceiling.

San went first.

Of course he did.

He jumped effortlessly, fingertips grazing the surface.

He landed cleanly like it was nothing.

You stared.

“That’s illegal,” you said.

“It’s physical conditioning,” Jongho said from the side, sipping water like a disappointed coach.

“Why are you supporting this?”

“I’m not. I’m observing failure trajectories.”

You ignored him.

Your turn.

You jumped.

You did not touch the ceiling.

You did, however, land awkwardly and nearly fall into the couch.

San nodded once.

“One point.”

“I hate you.”

“You’re competitive,” he said.

“I am not—”

“You started it.”

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Because technically, in the most annoying possible way, he wasn’t wrong.

You started noticing it wasn’t just competitions anymore.

It was everything.

San would time how fast you answered questions.

He’d challenge you to drink water faster.

He’d race you to the elevator.

He once tried to “evaluate your spatial awareness” by tossing random objects and watching your reflexes.

Hongjoong eventually stepped in.

“This has gone too far,” he said.

San nodded seriously. “Agreed. We need standardized rules.”

“That is not what I meant.”

But by then it was too late.

Because San had committed.

Fully.

Deeply.

Obnoxiously.

The cooking competition was where things truly broke.

You had insisted on making dinner to prove a point.

San immediately countered with, “I will also cook.”

You should’ve known.

You should’ve stopped there.

Instead, you said, “Fine. Let’s see who’s better.”

Wooyoung screamed in excitement like a man witnessing history.

Mingi started recording.

Seonghwa quietly left the kitchen.

Jongho brought a chair.

San tied on an apron.

You regretted everything.

The challenge: fried rice.

Simple. Easy. Safe.

Until San started measuring rice grains like he was conducting a science experiment.

“You’re insane,” you said again.

“You’re distracted,” he replied.

“I am not distracted.”

“You just burned your onions.”

You looked down.

The onions were, in fact, burning.

“That’s— that’s intentional flavor,” you lied.

San didn’t respond.

He just… looked at his pan.

Then at yours.

Then quietly said, “I’ve already finished plating.”

You froze.

“What?”

He turned his plate around.

It was… annoyingly perfect.

Garnished.

Balanced.

Beautiful.

Wooyoung gasped. “He’s winning.”

“I hate this,” you said.

San smiled slightly.

It was not a kind smile.

It was a competitive smile.

You tasted your food.

It was fine.

San’s was better.

You refused to admit it.

Jongho, however, did not hesitate.

“San wins,” he said immediately.

“Traitor,” you muttered.

You thought it would stop at physical challenges.

You were wrong.

San had escalated.

Now it was memory games.

Reaction storytelling.

Emotional recall tests.

At one point, he asked, “What did you eat for breakfast three days ago?”

You stared at him.

“Why would I remember that?”

He wrote something down.

“You forgot.”

“That’s normal!”

“Not for a competitor.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Wooyoung whispered loudly, “He’s breaking her psychologically.”

“I’m not breaking anything,” San said. “I’m optimizing performance.”

“You sound like a villain,” you told him.

“I sound like a winner.”

That was when you realized something unsettling.

He wasn’t joking anymore.

He genuinely believed this was a competition that mattered.

You attempted to avoid him.

You really did.

You hid in your room.

He knocked.

You didn’t answer.

He left.

Victory.

Five minutes later, he slid a note under your door.

New challenge: endurance. How long can you avoid me before you lose focus?

You stared at it.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.

You ignored it.

For three hours.

Then another note arrived.

Current time: 3 hours 14 minutes. You are improving.

You threw the note across the room.

It happened in the practice room.

You were exhausted.

Truly exhausted.

Not physically from competitions anymore, but mentally from San existing as a relentless scoreboard.

He was stretching again.

Of course he was stretching.

You dropped onto the floor.

“I’m done,” you said.

San looked over. “Done what?”

“This. Whatever this is.”

He tilted his head. “The competition?”

“There is no competition.”

He paused.

For the first time, actually paused.

Then said, “You’re forfeiting?”

You sat up. “Yes. I forfeit. You win. Congratulations. Please stop.”

Silence.

The kind that felt heavier than usual.

San didn’t move immediately.

Then he slowly sat down across from you.

“…Why?” he asked.

You blinked. “Because it’s exhausting.”

A longer pause.

“…Was I too intense?”